


Out of the Dark

by Ksiezniczka



Series: TUiM-Verse [5]
Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Parapines, Road Trips, mabifica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 84,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ksiezniczka/pseuds/Ksiezniczka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever told Norman and Dipper that life after college would be this hard, and when Dipper loses his job it gets even harder. But it's okay, Dipper assures his boyfriend, he has a plan. Unfortunately, like so many of Dipper's other plans, this one quickly goes awry - and when the young men stumble upon a dark conspiracy that threatens to change the whole world as they know it, things are going to get stranger and more dangerous than they ever planned for...</p><p>Third and final story in the "Tangled Up in Mysteries" series. Updates Tuesdays and Fridays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ursa Minor

_ QUEENS _

 

It was a typical Thursday when 22-year-old Norman Babcock climbed up the stairs to the tiny fifth-floor walk-up apartment (really, it was more just a small room in a dilapidated old building in Queens) he shared with his boyfriend. 

 

His job (a paid internship, technically) had been tiring, but it was always rewarding to help others realise they weren’t “crazy” - even if all he did in the psych office was file papers and occasionally tell random ghosts the doctor couldn’t see them anymore. Dipper probably wouldn’t be home for another hour, so if he timed this right he could shower  _ and _ get dinner delivered before Dipper even got to the apartment building.

 

“Good afternoon, Norman!” An elderly janitor greeted him, sweeping the stairs. 

 

This particular janitor - Jimmy, he liked to be called - had been dead for over thirty years, but he was content to stay behind and sweep the stairs for eternity, even if his ghostly broom couldn’t really remove any of the building’s filth. (He’d once told Norman, “ain’t no shame in enjoying a job well done.”) 

 

“How was work, son?”

 

“Same as it ever is,” the medium smiled. “How’s the sweeping going?”

 

“Same as it ever is,” Jimmy returned the smile warmly. “Though... I was surprised to see your roommate a couple hours ago.”

 

The smile fell from Norman’s face. Dipper had come home early? That wasn’t like him. Actually, on more than one occasion, Dipper’s boss had called Norman to ask him to get Dipper to stop working and go home already. 

 

“Did he look sick?”

 

“Oh, it’s hard to tell with him,” Jimmy continued to sweep, back and forth, as he had for decades. “He walked past me pretty fast.”

 

“I- I’ll go check on him,” Norman turned to walk up the stairs. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

 

“G’bye, Norman!”

 

The young man didn’t run up to his apartment, but he did walk faster than normal, brandishing the key before he got to the door and fumbling to unlock the door. He could hear the eighties pop ballads playing before he even opened the door to the apartment. 

 

“Dipper?” he poked his head in the door, entering cautiously. The iPod dock was on the counter by the sink, and Norman turned the music off before asking, “Dip? Are you home?”

 

“Mnnn,” Dipper was lying face-down on the bed, and Norman couldn’t understand what he was mumbling into the pillow. But it didn’t sound happy.

 

“Hey,” Norman said gently, sitting down on the bed next to him and taking one of his hands, the one with a frayed old thread bracelet around the wrist that Mabel had made. (Norman had a matching one. It had four threads in it - “Red for Dippin’ Dots, light blue for Normy, hot pink for Paz, and sunshiney yellow for  _ me _ !” as Mabel had explained.)

 

Dipper turned his head a little so that his mouth was no longer pressed into the pillow.

 

From what Norman could see of his face, he was intensely worried about something. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes filled with the beginnings of what could become panic, sweat on his brow (which considering how  _ cold _ it was - the snow had come early this year, and Norman was certain he still had white flakes of it in his hair - was concerning).

 

“Hey,” the medium repeated softly. “What happened?”

 

“Messenger went under.”

 

“I…  _ what _ ?” Norman frowned, confused.

 

“The Messenger! It’s over!” Dipper shot up so that he was now sitting up as well, and Norman jumped back a little in surprise. “God, what was I  _ thinking _ taking a job at a newspaper in the 2020s?! Everyone knows ‘newspaper is dead’! Stupid, fucking-!”

 

The dots connected themselves in Norman’s mind - Dipper had lost his job (or rather, paid internship) at the Manhattan Messenger, a newspaper that had aimed itself at the millennial crowd. The medium should have known that getting two paid internships within their majors, both in New York City, was way too good to last. 

 

“Why did we move to the city? What the hell were we thinking? We can’t afford this,” the older of the two was still bemoaning his loss. “How are we gonna afford rent now? We’ll have to move back in with your parents, I don’t know what the hell  _ I’m _ going to do - Norman, why didn’t you talk me out of majoring in journalism?”

 

“Okay, hold on. Slow down,” Norman replied. “We’re  not going to move back in with my parents. It’ll be okay, Dip.”

 

“How! How will it be okay?!”

 

“You’ll find another job,” he kept his voice low and even, the way he knew would calm Dipper down. “And maybe it won’t be in your field, but that’s okay. You only need to keep it until you find a job that  _ is _ in your field. Come on, Dipper, we’ve survived worse. We’re  _ going _ to get through this.”

 

“What if we don’t?”

 

“We  _ will _ ,” he repeated. “Dipper, come on. I love you. What’s more, I  _ believe _ in you - this is just a rough patch, alright? You’re going to be okay, and I’m going to be right here while you look for a job, alright?”

 

Dipper hesitated. Then, he nodded, mumbling a quick, “love you too.” 

 

And Norman hoped, for both their sakes, that he was right. That they’d get through this. That they wouldn’t have to move back in with Perry and Sandra.

 

***

 

Six days later, and Dipper was no closer to finding a job, despite the fact that he had done nothing but scour the internet for jobs. It seemed like every open position in the five boroughs was either something he was way overqualified for, or way underqualified for. 

 

It was beginning to look hopeless, and rent was due in a week. Dipper knew, of course, his boyfriend wouldn’t blame him if he wasn’t able to come up with his half - Norman was actually almost  too patient with him sometimes, calm even in situations that any normal person would be pissed off in. (Not that Dipper minded, of course. He didn’t want any normal person. He wanted Norman.) 

 

But he also knew that the younger man couldn’t pay it on his own, and was  _ absolutely _ not willing to move back in with his parents, not when he had made such a big deal to Perry and Sandra about moving in with Dipper. 

 

(Norman didn’t get that stubborn about things unless it was something  _ extremely _ important to him. Dipper could respect that.)

 

The situation was getting dire. Dipper needed to come up with a plan, and  _ fast _ . But what could he even do? That internship was the only job experience he had, and it wasn’t as if he had any unique skills! Other than the ability to exorcise demons or placate poltergeists or something like that, but solving paranormal mysteries couldn’t exactly pay his bills…

 

...could it?

 

Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his old laptop, booting it up and using the neighbouring apartment’s internet connection, as always, to get to Craigslist. This was probably a bad idea, but he was just desperate enough not to give a crap. He began to type:

 

‘Job wanted. Freelance paranormal investigator. Serious inquiries only...’

 

***

 

“You  _ what _ ?”

 

“Found… found a job?” Dipper answered, somewhat weakly. Norman wasn’t taking this as well as he’d hoped.

 

“Dipper,” the medium pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “that isn’t what I meant and you know it...”

 

“I know, I know, but- we don’t really have a  _ choice _ !” he grabbed his boyfriend’s hands, looking right up into his blue, blue eyes. “Norman, our rent is due soon, and I don’t have another way to get the money in time. And I know you can’t afford both halves yourself. This is what I’m good at - this is what I’ve been good out since I was  _ twelve _ . What else can I possibly do?”

 

“Call Pacifica and ask her to loan you money?” Norman frowned. “Did you consider that option?”

 

Dipper made a face of disgust. Pacifica was even richer than ever, since now the government paid her thousands to just not reveal the horrible secret of the Northwest family. As if she ever even thought about her family anymore - she and Mabel had started a fashion line just out of college, and she now devoted all her energy towards the business side of  _ that _ whole thing. Mabel was convinced they were going to make it big, even though they didn’t even need the money. 

 

Dipper wasn’t  _ bitter _ , per se, but he still wasn’t convinced. And he was  _ definitely _ too proud to accept their help. He protested:

 

“I’m not taking handouts from  _ Pacifica _ !” He threw his hands up. Norman looked a little taken aback, and Dipper had to force himself to pause. This really wasn’t worth getting into an argument over, after all. He sighed, and spoke quieter now, “Look. It’s not gonna be a permanent thing. I’ll keep looking for an actual job. But this guy is willing to pay me a hundred bucks just to ask the ghost in his apartment to leave his kid alone. And I got two more e-mails that I haven’t even opened yet. So until I actually get a job? This is probably the best option. I mean, we need the money.”

 

“I know…” Norman’s voice trailed off, and Dipper wished he could read his mind. Sometimes, it was hard to tell what the younger man was thinking, and at this point Dipper really just wanted him to support him, not to be mad or upset or  _ whatever _ .

 

He briefly squeezed those thin, pale hands in his own, as he looked up into those eyes that  _ still _ amazed him even after years.

 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “Once I have the money, I’ll make it up to you.”

 

“Dip, come on… you don’t have to make it up to me. I just  worry about you, that’s all. This stuff is dangerous, you know? Paying the rent isn’t worth losing your life over.”

 

“I’m not gonna ‘lose my life’,” Dipper said. “I mean, worst case scenario, I have to exorcise a poltergeist. A twelve-year-old could do that. After all, I did.”

 

“That’s not the point…” Norman sighed again. Then, “you’d be worried if it were me…”

 

The older of the two knew Norman had a point there.

 

“Yeeee-eeesss,” he admitted carefully, “but if it were  _ you _ , you know I’d never let you go alone.”

 

“Do you… want me to go with you?”

 

Norman’s voice sounded cautious, and Dipper couldn’t read the expression on his face.

 

If he was being honest with himself, yes, he did want his boyfriend there with him. He knew he could manage it on his own, but Dipper knew for a fact it’d be a hell of a lot easier if Norman came along. They worked best as a team, after all. Especially for something as relatively simple as a ghost. (Simple when compared to, say, some cryptid or demon or fairy or something.)

 

But could he really ask that of him? 

 

Norman hadn’t seemed that happy when Dipper told him about this plan of his. Could he really ask him to join him when he was clearly already uncomfortable with this idea?

 

It turned out, he didn’t have to ask. (Dipper should have known - his face always had been way more expressive than he wanted it to be. No wonder Norman knew exactly what he was feeling.)

 

“When does that guy want us to check his place out?” the medium asked, more than a little resignation in his voice.

 

“You don’t have to come,” Dipper said quickly.

 

“Neither do you,” Norman shrugged. “So what time did that guy say?”

 

He couldn’t help but start to smile at that, pulling Norman into a sudden hug. 

 

“Friday. We didn’t decide on a time yet. I’ll tell him after six so you can still go to work like usual,” he pulled back from the hug with a little smile. “You’re the greatest, you know. You really don’t have to do this.”

 

“Dipper…” Norman began, a small smile of his own beginning to tug at his lips. Then, instead of finishing whatever it was he’d been about to say, he leaned forward a little, pecked Dipper on the lips.

 

(Even now, after over five years together, it still kind of made Dipper’s heart soar whenever he did something like that.)

 

And, though he knew he probably shouldn’t have been, he was actually kind of excited. The two hadn’t really tackled a paranormal case since leaving college, other than the occasional Norman helping out ghosts who  _ wanted _ to move on. (Dipper didn’t count that as a “case” though.) Learning how to be “real adults”, as Mabel had once called it, took too much out of them for them to seek out stuff like that. 

 

Maybe, just maybe, things would work out after all. He’d get his rent paid, they wouldn’t have to move, and together they’d kick some undead ass.

 

It would be just like old times. 

 

In his excitement, Dipper ran calloused fingers through black-brown spikes of hair, guiding Norman’s head back towards his again, kissing this excitement into the other man’s mouth.

  
_ ‘Pines and Babcock, on the case again,’ _ he thought to himself. 


	2. Cassiopeia

_ MANHATTAN _

 

“Get down!” Dipper shoved his boyfriend down a little rougher than he’d probably intended, but it turned out to be just in time to miss being hit in the face with the can opener that had just been flung from a nearby kitchen. “God, I hate poltergeists… can you tell where the damn thing is?”

 

Norman’s eyes scanned the living room of the stranger’s apartment. He couldn’t see anything but the damage the poltergeist had already caused - an overthrown couch, a knocked down Christmas tree with a few shattered ornaments, books fallen from the bookcases, a broken souvenir snowglobe.

 

(That last one, he thought dryly, was really doing the apartment’s owner a favour.)

 

“I can’t see it,” he frowned, narrowing his eyes. It was too quiet now. Whatever was there was only biding time, stalling. 

 

That was never a good sign with poltergeists. 

 

It was a good thing, despite his misgivings, that he’d come. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Dipper could handle this alone, of course, but Norman felt a lot better being there with him.

 

“Be careful, okay?” Dipper spoke again. “It can’t have gone far - I’m going to check the bedroom. You stay here.”

 

“Wait, I don’t know if that’s-”

 

But the older man had already gotten up and scampered down the hall. Norman sighed. Typical, gung-ho Dipper. He loved him, but this was exactly why he’d decided to come along. That was  not the way to deal with poltergeists.

 

The medium counted down in his head from three - he didn’t want to make it look like he didn’t trust Dipper’s judgement or whatever - before starting up after him towards the bedroom.

 

“Wherever you are,” he spoke softly as his sock-clad feet (the person who lived here had a rule about not wearing shoes in the apartment) tread on the floorboards, “whoever you once were… you don’t have to do this. I’m not going to hurt you. Just talk to me.”

 

No reply.

 

Well, it had been worth a shot.

 

“Norman?” Dipper’s voice called from the bedroom, right before he got to the door. He soon saw why.

 

All the furniture in the room - the bed, the nightstand, the dresser, the floor lamp - was floating about two feet off the ground.

 

The two exchanged looks. 

 

“Class three poltergeist, tops,” Dipper muttered. “Worst comes to worst, we could probably exorcise it pretty easi-  _ woah _ !”

 

He grabbed at Norman’s hands as his own feet began to lift up off the ground. The medium couldn’t tell if Dipper was lifting him up into the air, or if the poltergeist was.

 

Thinking quickly, Norman grabbed onto a shelf protruding from the wall, holding Dipper’s hand with his other hand to keep them both anchored. He never much liked when ghosts did this. 

 

(Levitating in the air like this - this feeling of weightlessness - reminded him too much of a distant sensation he couldn’t quite remember, an unpleasantness prickling at the edges of his mind. He pushed that thought out quickly, though. Now was not the time for that.)

 

It was Dipper’s indignant yells that pulled Norman back into reality:

 

“Levitation? Flying objects? Is that the best you’ve got?! Come on -  _ show _ yourself!”

 

“Dipper, don’t-!”

 

It was too late. The poltergeist hadn’t liked Dipper’s taunts, and was now seemingly pulling his legs to try and wrench him away from Norman’s grasp.

 

The medium held tighter, concentrating on the wispy, translucent hands curled around his boyfriend’s ankles. They faded at the wrist, meaning the angry spirit was hiding the rest of themselves from him. It took higher than a category three to be able to do that. Why was it holding back?

 

He tried again:

 

“We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to  _ talk _ . Like adults. Just put us down, we’ll talk it out…”

 

_ ‘No!’ _ a feminine voice rang out throughout the room, causing the light bulbs to flicker. 

 

Norman winced - to him it was deafening, though Dipper didn’t seem fazed, and likely couldn’t hear the ghost herself speaking.

 

_ ‘ Why should I talk to you?! I don’t even know you! Where’s Hank?! I want to talk to Hank!’ _

 

“Is it talking, or is it still hiding?” Dipper groaned. 

 

“Dipper, sh!” Norman shushed his boyfriend. “Um, m-ma’am, I… I don’t know who Hank is, but if you just put everything down,  _ I’ll _ talk to you. Just tell me what’s wrong. What did he do to you?”

 

There was a terrifying moment when he was afraid this would end badly. That he and Dipper had jumped into this situation without really thinking it through.

 

But then, suddenly, everything in the room was dropped to the floor - the boys included, Norman falling rather ungracefully over Dipper’s knee with a barely audible little “oof”.  _ That _ was gonna bruise.

 

Dipper sat up slowly, helping Norman sit up too, rubbing where his knee had gotten the medium in the chest, but Norman’s eyes continued to scan the room until he saw  _ her _ . The ghost. Sitting on the bed. By the looks of her long dress and fancy hat, she’d been dead for at _ least  _ a century. 

 

“Are you okay?” Dipper whispered. Norman nodded, held up a hand and then gestured to the bed. His boyfriend seemed to understand, removing his hand from the younger man’s chest so he could get up and sit on the bed next to the ghost.

 

“I don’t suppose by any chance you’ve got a cigarette?” the dead woman looked him up and down, as if seeing him for the first time.

 

Norman shook his head apologetically. “What did Hank do?”

 

“It’s more what he didn’t do,” she held up her left hand and pointed to the absence of a wedding ring, then a little lower to the scar on her wrist. “He promised he would, and I was so…  _ mad _ at him.” 

 

She clenched her fist, sending a nearby book flying into the wall opposite with the sheer force of her rage. Norman didn’t jump. She had been upset for over a hundred years - no wonder her rage was so strong.

 

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” he said, and the woman looked surprised, as if she hadn’t expected an apology. “I’m sorry he broke his promise. That wasn’t fair to you. But… you know he’s gone now, right?”

 

“He’s… he’s gone…” she nodded, as if this was the first time she’d realised it, herself. “Oh, dear… I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I? I… suppose it doesn’t mean much to you  _ now _ , but… thank you for apologising to me, er… I didn’t catch your name?”

 

“Norman,” he introduced himself. “And the man over there is Dipper. You?”

 

“You know, I… I don’t remember my name.” She blinked once, twice. Then gasped at the light that was gathering around her fingers. Their poltergeist was ready to move on. “Hey… If I find Hank in the afterlife, I’ll tell him you said hi. After punching him in the stomach, that is.”

 

The medium smiled at that as he watched the woman fade away into the light. Then, he turned to his boyfriend.

 

“...okay, it  _ was _ a good thing you came along,” Dipper admitted, standing up. “That… probably wouldn’t have gone so calmly without you.”

 

Norman shrugged. “I think she just wanted someone to listen to her. It’s pretty common with poltergeists. They’re still just people underneath it all.”

 

“You’re the best. What would I do without you?”

 

“Stop,” he blushed. 

 

“Seriously, I’d be absolutely hopeless without you.”

 

“Come on, Dip, shut up.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Dipper shrugged. “But you can’t stop me from  _ thinking _ it. Now help me move this furniture back and sweep up all the broken decorations before that guy gets home. I don’t want him trying to cheat us out of any money just because the table is sideways or whatever.”

 

“How is this guy even paying us if he’s not home?”

 

“PayPal,” another shrug. “Come on, Norman, help me move this.”

 

The two moved all the items in the apartment back to the best of their ability - at least as close as they could figure out, anyway - before going out into the hallway outside the apartment, both of them fully ready to get home. Norman could already feel the bruise forming on his chest.

 

Neither of them was expecting the stranger waiting for them out in front of the door across the hall.

 

“Uh… can I help you?” Dipper couldn’t keep the surprised confusion out of his voice, and the woman, to her credit, looked a bit sheepish to have been caught staring.

 

She looked rather average, with mousy brown hair and frumpy clothes. Nothing about her was spectacular looking, or even odd - Norman hated to think it, but if she were in a crowd, he wouldn’t be able to pick her out. He pushed that thought away. She was an individual, her looks didn’t matter.

 

“I’ve just never seen you before,” the strange woman replied. “And I heard a loud bang, and I just… well, we’ve all heard  _ stories _ about that apartment, and there were rumours about the Swensons calling in paranormal investigators… you’re them, aren’t you?”

 

The pair exchanged confused expressions. Dipper’s eyebrows were raised, but Norman didn’t know what to say to him - he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to her, either.

 

“Do you just hunt ghosts?” she continued. “Or… do you investigate  _ other _ things?”

 

“What… what kind of other things?” Dipper’s curiosity got the better of him, and though Norman felt a little uneasy, he couldn’t blame him.

 

The woman looked down the hallway, seemingly at nothing, then shook her head. “Not out here. Come inside.”

 

Norman reached out and clasped Dipper’s hand, but he let his boyfriend lead him into the woman’s apartment. It was much more sparsely furnished than the one the one they had just come from, and messier too, as if she hadn’t been expecting company.

 

“I’m Linda, by the way,” she gave them an almost-sad, apologetic look. “Linda Cortile. Sorry for the mess. Things have been…”

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dipper responded quickly, sitting on her couch. Norman joined him, but didn’t say anything as he looked around, taking in his surroundings. “I’m Dipper, that’s Norman. What seems to be the problem?”

 

Linda Cortile blushed, and looked away, leaning against a wall. “What are your thoughts on… aliens?”

 

“A-aliens?!” Dipper sounded surprised by that. The medium didn’t even have to look at his boyfriend to know that the older man was probably barely holding in his excitement.

 

(For literally  _ years _ , Dipper had been trying to convince Norman of the “truth” of extraterrestrial life, of UFO abductions, of the fact that respected scientists like Carl Sagan and Stephen Hawking had spoken about the possibilities of alien existence. Norman didn’t deny the  _ possibility  _ of alien life-forms existing, of course. But he wasn’t exactly convinced they’d come to Earth, either.)

 

“What are  _ your _ thoughts on aliens?” Norman asked, in a way he hoped sounded calm. He wasn’t about to ridicule the poor woman. She was clearly distressed about something, and he wanted to help her.

 

After all, he saw the black circles under her eyes. He knew what it was like to miss that much sleep because of something most people said didn’t exist.

 

“I… I’m not crazy,” Linda began, looking down at her hands, which were clenched in front of her. “Everyone thinks I am when I tell them, but I’m  _ not _ , I-”

 

“We don’t think you’re crazy,” Dipper answered. “I mean, we’ve seen a _ lot _ of ‘crazy’ shit over the years. Do… I mean, were you abducted? By aliens, I mean?”

 

She nodded, a little  too quickly, babbling just a bit:

 

“They… I’m sorry, this is hard for me to say. I need to say it, but… I think they implanted something in me, when I was really young. And I think they come back to check on it sometimes. And… I’m not asking you to kill them, or anything, but… I just need proof. I just need someone to tell me it’s really happening, that I’m  _ not _ crazy. Can… can you two do that for me? I don’t know who else I can ask...”

 

Dipper and Norman exchanged looks. The medium already knew, even before looking, that Dipper would be eager to accept her offer, eager to finally get the chance to prove himself right. Whatever happened - whatever was really bothering Linda - Norman couldn’t exactly say _ no _ , not when Dipper had that gleam in his eyes. He gave a slight, almost imperceivable nod.

 

“What would you need us to do?” Dipper asked.

 

Linda looked back up, a strange sadness in her brown eyes. “Tomorrow night. I- I’ve been counting the days between their ‘check ups’, and if my math is right they’ll be back tomorrow. I just need you to get real, photographic proof. That’s all I’m asking you. I’ll pay you for the photos - I’ll pay fifty per photo if that’s what it takes. Please, I just need… I just need to  _ know _ .”

 

“We’ll see you tomorrow night,” the older man nodded, standing up and holding out his hand for Linda to shake.

 

She hesitated, looking away again, biting her lip.

 

But then she caught their gaze, walking over to shake Dipper’s hand, then offering her handshake to Norman as well. 

 

“Tomorrow night,” she repeated. “Be here by ten. Bring a camera.”

 

The boys left her apartment feeling a strange mixture of excitement (mostly on Dipper’s part), apprehension (mostly on Norman’s part), and a whole lot of confusion.

 

The train ride back over to Queens was more than a little tense. It was late enough that at least they were both able to sit, Dipper leaning a little into Norman’s shoulder so that whenever the train jostled them, their bodies  _ thunk _ -ed together gently. Everything that had happened that night was beginning to catch up to them, and Norman felt pretty exhausted, all things considering.

 

“Fifty bucks per photo,” Dipper murmured.

 

“ _ If _ there really are aliens,” Norman said. 

 

“Wouldn’t be an X-File without someone playing Agent Scully.”

 

“Oh my god, Dip,” he rolled his eyes. “Your life isn’t some TV show, you know. I want to help that woman-”

 

“Linda Cortile.”

 

“Yeah, I want to help Linda Cortile as much as you do. But we don’t know yet if it really is aliens.”

 

“Duh, that’s what the camera will be for,” Dipper replied. “I’m thinking I’ll pick up a couple disposable ones at the bodega so we have both film  _ and _ digital. I don’t know how UFO technology will affect either.”

 

Norman sighed. “Dipper… I know you’re weirdly excited, but I just don’t want you getting your hopes up for aliens when it could be, I dunno, demons or something.”

 

“Pfft. I’m not  _ excited _ .”

 

The medium didn’t even reply to that verbally. He just gave Dipper a  _ look _ .

 

The older boy wilted a little. “Okay, it  _ would _ be pretty cool to see some aliens… but don’t say I’m ‘excited’ when some woman is scared; that makes me sound like an asshole.”

 

“You’re not an asshole,” he grabbed Dipper’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s kind of cute.”

 

“Shut up, Scully.”

 

Norman rolled his eyes again, letting the train continue to jostle them as he clung to Dipper’s hand the whole way back to Queens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out the bit in "Tangled Up in Mysteries" about aliens was less a red herring and more foreshadowing...


	3. Waxing Crescent

_ WASHINGTON, D.C. _

 

Special Agent Ross Collins had spent the last five years climbing the FBI’s rank ladder. He had enjoyed the figurative climb, enjoyed the pay raise and the benefits that came with being privy to some of the secrets of the country he felt was one of the greatest in the world. (Or at least, if anyone asked him, he would  _ say _ he felt it was one of the greatest in the world. He’d learned long ago how to say what others wanted to hear in order to get ahead.)

 

He did  _ not _ enjoy constant lunches with his superiors, such as Deputy Director Lee. The old fart just didn’t know how to have any  _ fun _ .

 

“...and I must say I admired the way you closed the Warner case,” Lee was going on and on and on. Brownnosing was one thing, to be sure, but Collins found this so  _ tedious _ . He clenched his fists beneath the table.

 

His cell phone rang.  _ Saved by the cell _ . Deputy Director Lee’s bushy grey eyebrows flew up.

 

“The wife?”

 

“You know I’m not married,” Collins forced a smile through clenched teeth. “It’s Agent Shaw.”

 

“Ah. A work call,” Lee nodded, satisfied with that answer. “Go ahead. But don’t be  _ too _ long.”

 

He answered the call before he’d even finished rising from his seat. “Collins.”

 

“Shaw,” the voice on the other end of the line answered.

 

“I hope you have good news for me. For your sake, you’d better.”

 

“Sir,” Shaw replied, “Phase One of the plan is set. Operation: Arcturus is a go.”

 

Agent Collins’ lips curled into a smile.  “... _ excellent _ .”

 

***

 

_ MANHATTAN _

 

It was about 9:58 PM, and Dipper’s pockets were full of cameras, both a digital one and a few disposable ones, as well as his cell phone. Here he stood, back in front of Linda Cortile’s apartment, ready to solve yet another paranormal case.

 

Ready to finally get answers to a mystery that had fascinated him since he was a kid.

 

“Moment of truth,” he grabbed Norman’s hand.

 

“Just promise me you won’t get too disappointed if it turns out not to be aliens?” Norman squeezed on his hand just a little.

 

“Dude, are you saying you  _ don’t _ think it’s aliens?”

 

“I… I don’t know. It just seems kind of… you know. UFOs? Extraterrestrial visitors from beyond who apparently have nothing better to do than antagonise one poor woman over and over again for thirty-ish years?”

 

“Sounds like crap when you say it,” Dipper shrugged, knocking on the door to the apartment.

 

The medium sighed. “I just think someone else would have noticed if there were UFOs in the middle of  _ Manhattan _ . It’s not exactly-”

 

The door swung open before Norman could finish that thought, and Linda stood before the two intrepid paranormal investigators, looking more than a little nervous. (Dipper supposed that if he was gonna invite two strangers to watch him sleep, he’d probably be nervous too. It wasn’t exactly the type of paranormal case he’d expected to get when he’d made the original Craigslist post.)

 

“Come inside,” she said quickly, ushering them into the apartment. She was already in pyjamas - or rather, an oversized old t-shirt and sweatpants - and had dark circles under her eyes to rival even Norman’s. She was rambling, her eyes darting around the room instead of focusing on either Norman or Dipper.  “You can set your coats over there. You two got here just in time… I was just about to go to bed. Did you two already eat? I could make coffee if you like, and there might be some take-out in the kitchen, still, i-if you wanted it. I… I should be asleep by the time you two finish-”

 

“We ate at home,” Dipper assured her, and she wilted a little. 

 

“I… alright… if you say so…” she looked down at her hands, chipping at some of the red nail polish she was wearing.

 

This was a lot more awkward than Dipper had been prepared for. He tried to shoot a look over to his boyfriend, but Norman was looking around the room, taking everything in.

 

“How about you just go to bed like normal?” Dipper asked. “We’ll just… check in on you in like twenty minutes, after you’re asleep, yeah?”

 

She blinked. “I… yeah, that… that makes sense… G-good night, I suppose.”

 

No one moved for a few awkward seconds. Then, Linda darted into her bedroom, and Dipper began to check all his cameras.

 

Whatever happened tonight, he was ready.

 

***

 

Hours passed, and Dipper was beginning to get discouraged. Nothing had  _ happened _ , yet. He wasn’t about to admit his discouragement - he was too stubborn for that - but he still felt it.

 

He looked over to where Norman was sitting, drumming his long, thin fingers on one of his knees. Dipper reached over and grabbed those fingers, squeezing gently on his boyfriend’s hand. Norman responded by leaning his head into Dipper’s shoulder.

 

“I thought the end of college meant we were done with all-nighters,” the medium whispered.

 

“Yeah, well, when we get home you’re taking a nap,” he responded. 

 

Norman looked over to the sleeping woman on the bed, not saying anything in reply, and Dipper allowed himself a moment of staring. It was too dark in the room to make out much, but the city lights filtering through the nightly frost on Linda’s bedroom window did allow him to make out the outlines of the features on Norman’s face. Even after years, he still did really love that face. Even the parts Norman didn’t like. Especially the parts Norman didn’t like, actually, because those were usually the most unique. Like his crooked little nose. His heavy eyebrows. The oddly faceted irises of the brightest blue eyes Dipper had ever seen…

 

...eyes that were currently going wide as Norman sat up a little straighter and gripped his hand just a little tighter.

 

Dipper whipped his head around to look at what his boyfriend was gaping at like that - and quickly began scrambling for one of the cameras with his (rather shaky) free hand.

 

Linda - still asleep - was hovering a good two feet  above her bed, rising more and more towards the ceiling, engulfed in a beam of soft, blue light.

 

“Holy  _ shit _ !” Dipper exclaimed, snapping multiple pictures with one of the disposable cameras after the one on his cell phone began to glitch. (He quickly made a mental note - UFO technology and cell phones did _ not _ mix.) “Holy shit, Norman, are you  _ seeing _ this!?”

 

“She’s going to hit the ceiling,” the younger man’s voice sounded almost hollow, as if Norman was in such a state of disbelief and shock that he’d temporarily forgotten how to emote. “Should- shouldn’t we  do something?”

 

Dipper didn’t know how to answer that. Linda had hired them to get photos that proved her suspicions, and though the photos of her levitating would be compelling, he didn’t know if she’d count them as hard evidence. On the other hand, wasn’t their primary responsibility to  _ help _ her? Did grabbing her and pulling her back down count as helping her? What would she want them to do?

 

He didn’t have to decide, it turned out. Because the blue light got more intense all of a sudden, and Linda’s body seemingly  _ dissolved _ in it. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes.

 

And then, the light was gone.

 

The boys turned to each other, wide eyed, still sitting on the floor and clinging to each other’s hands in shock.

 

“Dipper…” Norman was the first to break the silence. “What the fuck was that?”

 

He shook his head, feeling just as frantic as the medium looked.

 

“Terrifying,” he replied. “That’s what. God, no  _ wonder _ she looked so damn worried all the time! She-”  He stopped, realising he had no idea what to do now that Linda had disappeared. How long did alien abductions normally take? His hands started slightly shaking again, the way they did whenever he started to get overwhelmed. “Oh god, what’re we gonna do?”

 

“Woah, hey, look at me, Dip - She said this happens to her a lot,” Norman’s hand was on his cheek in a flash, calming him down before he could even begin to get freaked out by how unprepared he was for this. “So that implies she’ll be back, doesn’t it? We just need to be  _ patient _ .”

 

He nodded, mouth suddenly too dry to speak. He could be patient. 

 

Even if the minutes passed as slow as years.

 

Dipper had no idea how long they waited - his phone was still on the fritz, and it felt like forever - but eventually, the blue light returned. And with it, Linda Cortile, again hovering above her own bed. This time, she was lowering back towards her mattress.

 

As soon as she hit her mattress, the woman shot up, wide-eyed and screaming.

 

In a flash, Dipper and Norman were at her side.

 

“Hey, hey, you’re home safe,” Dipper could hear himself babbling, “you’re okay, you’re safe. Linda - Miss Cortile - what _ ever _ , you’re  _ safe _ .”

 

She turned to him, a blank expression on her face. It was as if she was looking through him rather than at him. Her pupils were extremely dilated, and she appeared to be in a bit of a trance. 

 

(Truth be told, it was rather terrifying.)

 

“M-Montauk…” she murmured. Her voice sounded dazed, almost as if her mind were far, far away.

 

Dipper looked at Norman, raising his eyebrows to convey his confusion wordlessly over Linda’s head. 

 

The medium returned his wide-eyed look of bewilderment, shaking his head back and forth slowly. He had no idea what it meant either.

 

Linda turned suddenly, a ferocity in her dilated eyes - though she still didn’t look like herself, she still looked as if she were in a dream-state - and grabbed either side of Dipper’s face. He could feel her nails with their chipped red polish digging into his cheeks as she pressed, pulling his face down.

 

“Go to Montauk,” her voice still had that weirdly dreamlike quality to it, though it was more insistent now. “The answers you seek are in Montauk.” 

 

“Where’s Montauk?” Dipper pulled on her wrists, trying to get her hands off his face - the nails were really beginning to sting. She held tight, with a strength beyond what her slight frame should have allowed. “L-Linda, what the hell? What are you talking about.”

 

Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head as her body began to tremble uncontrollably. She continued to speak, only now it was gibberish that neither male could make heads or tails out of:

 

“Zorvmh ziv ivzo,” a small foam of spittle began to collect near the corner of her mouth, “gsv tlevimnvmg pmldh. Rm nlmgzfp yv hfiv gl ollp wldm yvold!”

 

“I don’t know what that means!” Dipper protested.

 

“Lay her back down, on her side!” Norman exclaimed, trying to pull the shaking woman off of Dipper. “Dip, she could be seriously hurt!”

 

Her arms fell slack to her side and she began to fall back. It was Norman who caught her - thank god he was there with Dipper - and laid her down gently, watching her intently to make sure the convulsions didn’t get any worse.

 

“What’s happening?” Dipper rubbed the scratches on his cheeks. “Is she okay?”

 

“I don’t know,” the younger man shook his head. “Sometimes psychological trauma can cause dissociative seiz-”

 

“Don’t textbook talk me, man!”

 

Norman looked back up at Dipper, using his hands to (very,  _ very _ gently) hold Linda as steady as possible. “Okay, fine, then think of it this way.  _ Whatever _ just took her - aliens or demons or whatever - really fucked her up.”

 

There was just a little more irritation in his voice than Dipper had expected - it wasn’t as if he’d  _ wanted _ Linda to get hurt - and he was once again reminded Norman was a god damn saint for agreeing to come along on this case.

 

“Are you mad at me?” he wilted just a little. “I didn’t mean for her to get hurt…”

 

The medium sighed, looking back down at Linda. Her tremors were beginning to subside, her eyes falling closed again. 

 

“Of course I’m not mad at you, Dip.”

 

“Because I’d totally get it if you were.”

 

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Norman insisted. “I… let’s just make sure she’s okay.”

 

Dipper nodded. What else could he do? He knew Norman, he knew his boyfriend always wanted, more than anything, to make sure everyone was okay, even if he didn’t personally agree with them.

 

Linda’s shaking died down, and for a few minutes, it looked as if she was in a peaceful slumber. Dipper let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, wiping the nervous sweat from his palms on his jeans.

 

Norman looked up at him again, and for a moment it looked like he were about to say something.

 

Then, Linda’s eyes shot open again, and she gasped loudly.

 

“D-Dipper? Norman?” She looked around, wide-eyed and bewildered. “Wh-what happened? Did they…” her voice lowered to a whisper as she sat up, “did they come back?”

 

“I think so,” Dipper said. “You were just  gone , and then when you came back you kinda… freaked out… you don’t remember?”

 

She shook her head, noting the scratches on his cheek. “Oh, god, did I do that?”

 

“You mentioned something about going to Montauk…” Norman murmured, and the woman turned to face him.

 

“Montauk?” she sounded even more confused. “I’ve never been to Montauk in my life.”

 

“Implanted memories…” Dipper muttered. It was a classic sign of alien abduction, after all. This case went a lot deeper than he’d initially planned for. “Don’t worry, Linda. We’re gonna figure this out. If your proof is in Montauk, we’ll get it - I promise you.”

 

“You… you’d do that?”

 

“It’s kinda what we do. Saving people. Seeking out the strange and unusual. We’ve got this,” he feigned confidence, even though he was painfully aware it wasn’t that simple. There was no reason to scare her anymore, though.

 

Norman shot Dipper a  _ look _ , mouthing ‘Montauk?’ when Linda wasn’t looking. Dipper forced a small smile, trying to convince Norman without alarming her that it would be okay.

 

Judging by the look on his boyfriend’s face, it didn’t quite work.

 

“...thank you,” Linda nodded, laying herself back down. 

 

“No problem,” Dipper said. “Like I said. We’ve got this.”

 

He wasn’t sure if he was right.

 

He hoped he was.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this story has had like. 7 or 8 "X-Files" references so far, hasn't it?


	4. Dark Matter

_ ON THE ROAD TO MONTAUK, NEW YORK _

 

“You’re going  _ where _ ?” Perry Babcock’s voice over the phone sounded incredulous, and Norman couldn’t decide if his father couldn’t hear him or just couldn’t believe him. 

 

He turned to Dipper, who was currently driving the old van they’d used once (to move their possessions from their dorm to their apartment) and then left parked for the better part of the year. Dipper had once had dreams of turning this thing into a surveillance van, like a high tech “Scooby-Doo” Mystery Machine. In a way, this trip meant he was kind of on the way to fulfilling those dreams.

 

“Montauk,” Norman repeated into his phone. “It’s about two hours or so outside of the city. Dipper has… a _ thing _ here.”

 

“A ‘thing’,” his father repeated, unconvinced. “Norman, this had better not be one of those paranormal investigation things you two were so into as kids!”

 

The medium frowned, a little annoyed that even as an adult he still had to deal with his father’s disapproval. Despite the fact that he had been initially skeptical of Dipper using this to earn money, he was now the first to jump to his defence:

 

“And if it is? Dad, if Dipper wants to do this, he’s a grown man. And I’m going to support his decision.”

 

Dipper looked over briefly from the driver’s seat, a quizzical look on his face, but he didn’t pipe up. He knew better by now than to get in the middle of one of Norman’s conversations with Perry.

 

“Norman, it’s about time you two grew up! I didn’t pay for you to go to college for you to throw away a psych degree and chase monsters!”

 

“I’m not throwing it away,” he bristled. “I’m still working during the week. This is just a side thing.”

 

“And if this ‘side thing’ gets you two seriously hurt? How’s Dipper going to find a  _ real _ job if some zombie or something eats his arm?”

 

“This  _ is _ a real job,” Norman frowned, balling one of his hands into a little fist and forcing himself to take slower breaths. He couldn’t let his dad get under his skin. Not today. Dipper noticed this, reaching over and placing one of his hands over Norman’s fist. The medium shot him a grateful look.

 

“Does Dipper need a real job? Is he still looking?” As usual, Perry completely ignored his son’s protests. “I have an old high school buddy in Brooklyn; he might be able to help-”

 

“ _ Dad _ ,” Norman insisted. “That won’t be necessary. We’re adults now. We’re making our own adult decisions. And one of them is to check out this thing in Montauk. Okay?”

 

A pause. He held his breath, hoping he was in the clear with his dad.

 

“...no, it’s  _ not _ okay! Norman, does he really think this is a sustainable career path?! Have you two thought this through at all?! How do you expect to live like this?!”

 

“I can’t hear you,” he lied. He just couldn’t deal with this, not right now. “ _ Kkkkt _ we’re going through a tunnel, Dad, I can’t -  _ Kkkkkt _ .”

 

He pulled the phone away from his ear, pressing the red hang-up button and letting out a shaky sigh. He didn’t  _ like _ doing that, of course - it always made him feel like kind of a shitty person to lie to someone - but his dad clearly wasn’t willing to understand, and he wasn’t willing to put in the effort to try and make him. Not right now.

 

Dipper squeezed his hand.

 

“You alright?” he asked.  

 

“Yeah,” Norman took a few deep breaths, trying to release some of the tension that the annoying conversation had left him with. “You know how my dad can get. I know he means well, but…”

 

“...but he doesn’t approve, right?” Dipper said. “Because this isn’t a ‘legitimate’ career path or whatever. Dude, don’t listen to him. We’re gonna get the proof Linda needs, she’s gonna pay us enough for this month’s rent, and I’ll keep looking for a ‘real job’ after that.”

 

Norman turned and looked out the window. “Will you, though?”

 

“Wh-what does  _ that _ mean?”

 

“Nothing, Dip,” he sighed again. “Can we please just change the subject?”

 

“I- okay…” Dipper pulled his hand away, using both hands to turn the van onto the freeway exit they needed to take. “But if you’re upset, you know you can talk to me, right? You don’t have to bottle it in and hide, not from me-”

 

“My dad knows how to push my buttons. There’s nothing to talk about,” he responded a little  _ too _ quickly. “So can we just talk about something else? Please? Like what the hell we’re supposed to be looking for in Montauk?”

 

“Camp Hero - it’s a park now, but it used to be an air force base,” Dipper, thankfully, didn’t push the issue anymore. Norman was grateful for that. At least one man in his life was making an effort to listen to him. “The government used to do experiments there. You’ve heard of the Philadelphia Experiment, right?”

 

“Dip, I’m dating  _ you _ ,” he replied. “Of course I’ve heard about it. ‘Let’s make a ship teleport and oops half the crew is fused to the ship hull, now let’s cover this up’, right? I swear, you’ve got a complex or something about government conspiracies.”

 

“I don’t have a  _ complex _ !” Dipper protested.

 

“What I want to know is what exactly this has to do with aliens,” the medium continued, eager to get his mind off of his father’s ever-present disapproval. 

 

“Well… I was doing some research last night,” Dipper said. (Of  _ course _ he’d been doing some research.)  “After the Roswell crash in the forties, look how fast our technology and stuff improved. It’s possible that maybe the government reverse-engineered-”

 

“ _ What _ ?!” Norman snapped his head back to face Dipper. “I… Honestly, I wish I could say I was surprised that you believe that.”

 

“You saying you  _ don’t _ ?”

 

He responded only with a noncommittal shrug.

 

“It’s the only lead we really have,” Dipper continued after another short little pause, “whether it’s true or not. And Linda told us to go to Montauk, so it’s the lead I’m following. We’ve done stuff following shakier leads before.”

 

“You’re lucky I love you.”

 

“The luckiest,” he shot a grin over to Norman, and despite everything Norman couldn’t help but smile back.

 

The van pulled into the parking lot of Camp Hero State Park.

 

***

 

It took them less than twenty minutes to find their way to the abandoned air force base with its radar tower still on top. The old building was locked up and behind a metal gate now - there was a bit of graffiti on one side of it - but it was otherwise in fairly good shape, being that the park still maintained it as a Historic Landmark. (There was even a plaque. Norman felt a little uneasy - did that mean there was park security or something? Would they get arrested? Wouldn’t that just be perfect - he’d have to call his dad to bail them out of jail. If Dipper didn’t call Mabel and Pacifica first.)

 

“Dipper, are you sure this is a good idea?” he watched his boyfriend throw his backpack over, and then begin to climb the gate. “I mean… If someone sees us…”

 

“No one will see us,” Dipper shrugged it off. “Norman, it’s  _ fine _ . Come on. Remember - Fifty bucks per photo.”

 

“Yeah, if we even find anything…” he muttered, regretting this even before he put his hands on the fence, the chill of the metal seeping down to his skin through his gloves.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing, Dip.”

 

The boys stalked around the building, in the snow gathered around it - it was almost nostalgic, in a way - until Dipper found a chained up door that seemed to lead into a basement or something.

 

“Bolt cutters…” he opened his backpack and began digging until he found the desired tool, cutting off the chains with entirely more effort than was probably necessary.

 

“Be careful,” the younger man warned. “This is technically government property, isn’t it?”

 

“Like I’ve never broken into government property before,” Dipper blew off this concern. For someone who worried all the time, he really could be blasé about the worst possible things.

 

“I  _ know _ you have in the past, but-”

 

“We’re in!” The older boy opened the door, letting out a cloud of dust and old cobwebs into the wintry outside air. 

 

Norman sighed.

 

It was clear as soon as they had their flashlights out - and as soon as their eyes adjusted to the rather small beams of light in the darkness - that no one had even been inside this building for probably over thirty years. Nature had begun to reclaim it, with small withered plants attempting to grow through cracks in the floor.  _ Something _ \- probably a rat - was scuttling in the distance. The air smelled stale and dusty. There sure as hell weren’t any ghosts down here, but Norman was pretty sure he’d run into a cobweb based on the feeling of something in the front of his hair.

 

The boys walked through the darkness in silence, down a staircase into a corridor. The doors that lined the walls looked solid, dull, heavy. They didn’t appear to have any knobs or handles. They didn’t even have windows in them. Norman wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what was behind them. He wasn’t sure what they were looking for. He wasn’t sure Dipper knew, either.

 

The older of the pair shoved on every door with his shoulder as they passed them. Not one budged. This corridor seemed to go on forever. Their footsteps echoed on the dusty floor.

 

“What, exactly, are we hoping to find?” Norman whispered. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering, but it somehow seemed like the right thing to do.

 

Dipper didn’t respond at first, still determined to find a door that would budge.

 

Finally, he located one that had fallen off its hinges just slightly.

 

“And behind door number one…” he muttered, pressing his whole body weight against it. 

 

The way the creak of the door echoed into the darkness was such a horror movie cliché that Norman half-expected some wise-cracking slasher to jump out and mutilate them with a machete or something. In horror movies, curiosity was a sin punishable by death. Not for the first time that day, he wondered if this was a huge mistake.

 

The door only opened less than half a foot before it got stuck. Norman would be able to squeeze through the gap easily, but it’d be a lot harder for Dipper.

 

That didn’t deter the older man. Of course it didn’t. That would have made this whole day too easy.

 

“Can you get in and try to open it from the other side?” Dipper asked, something close to awe in his voice. Norman knew he couldn’t just say  _ no _ , not when he was dating someone so curious, so amazed by this whole situation.

 

The medium sighed and squeezed into the room. It smelled even dustier than the hallway had, with a touch of some almost  _ medical _ aroma as well, something tinny and sickly that assaulted Norman’s nose and dug into his throat. Formaldehyde, maybe. And something else he couldn’t place. 

 

He didn’t look for the source just yet, instead shining his flashlight on the back of the door. This side of the door had a handle, but when he pulled on it, trying his hardest, all that happened was that it made his arms feel sore. The door was just too heavy.

 

“I can’t open it,” he confessed. “Can you get in through the gap?”

 

Dipper attempted to do just that, but to no avail. He just wasn’t thin enough to get through the small opening. 

 

“Norman, listen to me, because this is, like,  _ super _ important,” he said into the gap. “You’re gonna have to investigate that room. Take photos of  _ everything _ , no matter how irrelevant it seems - do you have a camera with you or do you want me to hand one in?”

 

“Dipper…”

 

“I’ll be right out here. If anything bad happens - anything at all - you get your ass back out here to me, okay?”

 

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, more to get Dipper to stop saying stuff like that than out of any real enthusiasm over the situation.

 

Looking around the room with his flashlight, Norman quickly figured out why it smelled so bad. There was a table near the centre of this tiled room, near a counter filled with jars and scales and the like. The table was made of metal, with a drain on one end of it, and it was slightly slanted towards the drain. The medium had seen more than enough horror movies to recognise why.

 

This was an autopsy room.

 

He felt uneasy even as he began snapping photos on his phone. Why would an air force base need an autopsy room? And if people had died here with enough frequency for them to use this room, then why were there no ghosts?

 

‘ _ Unless it wasn’t people they were dissecting...’ _

 

He shook his head. Where had  _ that _ thought come from? His skin was crawling more intensely with every passing second as he inspected this room. Could there really have been a Philadelphia Experiment? Was it possible? Could this have been where they took what was left of the bodies of those unfortunate to not survive some sort of teleportation gone wrong?

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. This whole situation is messing with your head,” he muttered scoldingly to himself - a habit he knew he’d picked up from Dipper.

 

Norman had seen enough. He  _ really _ didn’t want to be in this room anymore. It smelled bad, and its very existence made him pretty uncomfortable. He hoped he had the photos Dipper would want. What was he even supposed to be getting pictures of? The autopsy table?

 

“Dip? I’m coming out. It’s just an old morgue or something, there’s really nothing in here…”

 

There was no reply from the hallway. 

 

That was… unusual. If there was one thing Norman knew about his boyfriend - and by now, he knew quite a bit about him - it was that Dipper was not subtle about making his feelings known. Norman had at least expected a disappointed groan.

 

“Dipper?” 

 

He made his way back over to the door, squeezing himself back into the hallway. The answer to why Dipper hadn’t replied quickly made itself known:

 

The door across the hallway was wide open. 

 

Dipper wouldn’t have been able to resist.

 

Norman sighed, mentally preparing himself for even more horror movie clichés as he walked through that door, calling out as he did so:

 

“Dipper? Are you in here?”

 

“Norman!” His boyfriend’s voice was a welcome sound, though the flashlight beam shining in his face was a lot less welcome. Norman squinted. “You’ve got to see this! Oh, man! You’re not gonna believe this - it’s  _ amazing _ !”

 

“What’s amazi-”

 

“ _ Look ! _ ”

 

Dipper shined his flashlight beam in another direction - this room was metal lined, and much bigger than the autopsy room - until the light landed on something huge and metallic and rounded, like something out of a science fiction movie. There was a series of tables nearby, with charts and graphs and chunks of metal and wire, as if someone had been studying those chunks and just… gotten up and abandoned it.

 

“I don’t really know what I’m looking at…” Norman confessed.

 

“It looks like a UFO to me!” Dipper was hopping back and forth from foot to foot excitedly, and Norman would have thought it was adorable if this whole situation weren’t so uncomfortable. “Norman, do you realise what this  _ means _ ?! How  _ important _ this is?!”

 

“N-not really, no…”

 

“If the world knew what was down here - this has the power to change  _ everything _ !”

 

“Dipper, calm down, you’re not making any sense-”

 

“I am calm! This is me being calm!” Dipper turned back to the medium, grabbing one of his hands. (Norman pretended not to notice his boyfriend’s hand was shaking slightly.) “Think of the implications - the air force had access to a UFO and they were picking it apart and  _ studying _ it!”

 

“Why would the air force be-”

 

“Think about it,” the older boy had clearly anticipated Norman’s skepticism. “In the Cold War, technology and the arms race were top priority. You’re going to tell me, in a time like that, we wouldn’t do  _ anything we could _ to maintain our technological edge over the Soviets?”

 

“ _ You’re _ going to tell  _ me _ the government had access to alien technology and then decided to just abandon it here beneath some public park?” Norman frowned. “Dipper, I know you’re eager to find answers, but this place… something isn’t right about it.”

 

“I’ll tell you what’s not right! Aliens are  _ real _ and the government  _ knew _ -”

 

“Linda Cortile is not paying us to uncover some- some  _ conspiracy _ ,” the younger man’s frown deepened, and he looked away. “She just wants photos. If we have those photos, we should get out of here as soon as possible. I don’t... I don’t  _ like _ it down here, Dip.”

 

A pause hung in the air. Then, Norman felt those familiar, callused fingers he loved so much cupping his cheek. He let Dipper gently turn his face back towards him, noticed the concern in those warm brown eyes even with almost no light in this room.

 

“I’m sorry,” Dipper said. “I didn’t mean to drag you somewhere that would upset you.”

 

“I’m not upset,” Norman leaned into his touch. “Let’s just go  _ home _ for now, alright?”

 

“Alright,” the older agreed.

 

***

 

_ QUEENS _

 

It wasn’t until he dragged his phone out when he got home - to transfer the day’s photos onto a flash drive he could then give to Linda - that Dipper noticed the missed call from a number he didn’t recognise. It was a 718 area code, and he couldn’t imagine who was calling him from that area code.

 

“Do you know who this is?” He held up the phone to Norman, who squinted at the screen before shrugging and shaking his head.

 

“Maybe they found you on Craigslist?” the medium offered. “Check and see if they left a voicemail.”

 

The strange number  _ had _ left a voicemail, which Dipper listened to on speaker:

 

“Um. Hello, Dipper Pi- really? ‘Dipper’? Huh… - M-mister Pines, was it? My name is Derek, and I’m calling from the Korean Taco Cantina and Artisan Vegan Bakery, on Newell Street?”

 

“That is the most hipster-trash name for a restaurant I’ve ever heard,” Dipper muttered. Norman nudged him and gestured back to the phone, clearly intending for his boyfriend to pay better attention to the voicemail, which was still going:

 

“...and we were hoping you could come in for an interview on Tuesday, at eleven? We look forward to meeting you, Mr. Pines.”

 

The message ended. The boys exchanged looks.

 

“See?” Norman finally broke the silence. “I told you that if you kept applying for jobs someone would call you back.”

 

“Are you kidding? I’m not going to that interview.”

 

“You can’t be serious,” the younger boy’s face fell a little. “Dipper, I know you’re excited about this whole ‘alien conspiracy’ or whatever, but step back for a second-”

 

“I never applied for that job,” Dipper was more confused than annoyed. When he had been job-hunting - before he’d had his rather brilliant (if he did say so himself) idea to start earning money investigating the paranormal - he hadn’t looked at any food-service jobs. He was too proud for that. He had a legitimate degree, from a good school. He didn’t want to be a  _ waiter _ .

 

“You’re… you’re joking, right?” The medium looked just as confused as Dipper felt.

 

“Norman, do I look like I’m joking? Come on, can you really see  _ me _ applying at a place called ‘Korean Taco Cantina and Artisan Vegan Bakery’?”

 

There was a pause. Then, suddenly, Norman groaned.

 

“I cannot believe- after I told him not to- this is just like him…” the medium sounded frustrated, all of a sudden. Dipper was even more confused.

 

“Like who?”

 

“My dad!” Norman exclaimed. Then paused. Then sighed. “He said earlier he had a friend in Brooklyn who could get you a job, and I told him not to, but he must have… Dipper, you  _ have _ to go to that interview.”

 

“What? Why?” Dipper bristled. “Just tell your dad thanks but no thanks.”

 

“We both know I can’t do that…”

 

The older boy’s heart clenched a little. Norman looked so resigned - it was clear this frustrated him but, like always, rather than confront the source of the frustration, Norman seemed to prefer to just give in.

 

Dipper didn’t like seeing him like that. He didn’t want to be the cause of anymore of that pain, anymore fights between Perry and Norman that just lead to more giving in on the medium’s part. Dipper wasn’t gonna treat Norman like Perry did.

 

“...alright. I’ll go to the interview.”

  
Norman offered him a small smile - probably his first all day - before saying, in that sweet voice Dipper loved so much, “Thanks, Dip…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perry means well. Really, he does.
> 
> Also, Camp Hero is a real place in Montauk, and all the conspiracies mentioned are too. Not to say I believe them, necessarily, but a lot of people do, so this was a fun chapter to research for...


	5. Black Hole

_ BROOKLYN _

 

Dipper hated this job.

 

He hated the pretentious hipster customers. He hated the food (Dipper thought tacos and Korean food were both fine as they were and did not need to be mixed together). He hated the “trendy” Brooklyn location between other equally-ridiculous overpriced restaurants and art galleries. He hated the uniform with its slightly too-tight pants and suspenders.

 

Most of all, he just  _ really _ hated being a waiter. He’d only been doing it less than a week and he already knew he hated it.

 

It would be okay, he kept reminding himself. This was temporary. It was just a way to keep the rent paid until something better came along. Besides, the next Friday that rolled around, he’d give the flash drive and printed photos of what he’d found at Montauk to Linda Cortile, and she’d give him a hefty sum of cash as well. Dipper figured since he had a  _ real _ job now (even if it was a shitty one) he could use at least some of that money to take Norman out on a date or something, to show his appreciation of how well the medium had handled all that crazy UFO business.

 

Even if he did still have so many  _ questions _ …

 

“Does the hoisin tofu and kimchi taco come with sriracha ranch or do I have to order that on the side?” the latest annoying customer - a guy with thick glasses, tattoos, and a beard that Dipper refused to admit he was  _ ridiculously _ jealous of - snapped him out of these thoughts.

 

Dipper bit back the urge to tell this pretentious art school fuck that the menu said  _ right there _ that all tacos come with sriracha ranch, and instead forced a grin and spoke through gritted teeth: 

 

“Sriracha ranch is included in the order, unless you ask us not to put it on.”

 

“Is the ranch vegan?” the dude’s girlfriend - she looked like every other girl in this place, all of them seemingly trying to look as much like Zooey Deschanel as possible - asked.

 

“The ranch is not vegan, no,” Dipper clenched one of his fists behind his back. He kept reminding himself that he was doing this for  _ Norman _ . He’d do anything for Norman.

 

“The sign outside said this place was vegan.”

 

“Only the baked goods are vegan, not the entire menu, unless it’s marked with a green ‘V’.”

 

“I think we’re going to need some more time,” the guy told Dipper - who was certain this was the third time he’d come back to this table to try and take this couple’s order, and who was  _ this close _ to throwing his chewed up pen cap at their stupid smug pierced faces.

 

Grumbling under his breath, he returned to the front, where one of the hostesses was currently reapplying her perfect cat-eye eyeliner.

 

“Table six still giving you a hard time?” she asked, not looking up from her compact.

 

“That’s an understatement,” he shot a glare over at the hipster couple who were still making lovey eyes at each other instead of focusing on the damn menu.

 

“You’ll get used to it. By the way, I sat some dudes at table four for you. They look wealthy. Behave yourself, Dip,” she smirked, “and maybe they’ll give you a good tip.”

 

The two men at table four were dressed in identical black suits - they  _ did _ look expensive, and they were immaculately pressed - with black derby hats and black sunglasses. As far as Dipper could tell, they were both bald beneath the hats, and their lips looked weirdly red, like they’d just been making out with each other before coming in here or something. (Which was not a mental image he needed, and he wished he hadn’t thought that.) They looked like FBI agents or funeral directors or something. Neither was looking at the menu; they were just both staring off into the distance. That was…  _ unnerving _ …

 

“Are you gonna take their order or are you just gonna stare at them?” the hostess asked.

 

Dipper frowned, not dignifying that with a reply as he walked over to table four.

 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he greeted them with that fake smile that kind of hurt his cheeks. They turned to him slowly, in unison, staring at him through their dark sunglasses. (That was  _ really _ unnerving. Dipper pressed on anyway.) “My name is Dipper, and I’m going to be your server today. Can I get you two something to drink? We have an  _ excellent _ selection of beers on tap-”

 

“We would like sweet potato pie.”

 

The way the sentence was worded - and the weirdly monotone quality to the words, which were all over-enunciated - made Dipper do a double take. Both suited men were continuing to just  _ stare _ at him, and he wasn’t quite sure which one had spoken.

 

“Uh…” he attempted to regain some of his composure. “We… we don’t serve that here. But the bakery menu has some excellent selections - all vegan of course. Maybe I could recommend the-”

 

“We would like sweet potato pie,” the man on the right repeated himself.

 

Dipper sighed.  ‘ _ This fucking job...’ _

 

“We don’t serve sweet potato pie here,” he let a little more annoyance into his voice than his boss would like. “Can I get you something else?”

 

“Mr. Pines,” the man on the left spoke in that same odd tone, and Dipper did a double take - had he given them his last name? “It is imperative that you cease your investigation immediately.”

 

“Uh…?” It was increasingly clear to him that these men weren’t the average customers, and he was quickly becoming very uncomfortable.

 

“You will not discuss this matter with anyone,” the man in black continued. “Not with the denizens of the internet, not with Norman Babcock, and not with Linda Cortile.”

 

“N-now hold on a minute!” Dipper bristled a little. “How do you know about Linda Cortile?! Are you  _ threatening _ me?!”

 

The man on the right quickly flashed something from his jacket that may have been a gun, and Dipper stepped back a little. The man on the left pressed on as if nothing had happened:

 

“You must destroy all photographic evidence of your observations, and - under no circumstances - are you to discuss this visit with anyone else, or there will be dire consequences.”

 

“Wha-” Dipper began, but the men didn’t stay to listen. 

 

In less than a few seconds they had risen and left the restaurant, leaving behind a very confused and slightly frightened waiter.

 

What the  _ hell _ had just happened?!

 

***

 

_ MANHATTAN _

 

Norman’s psychology internship mostly consisted of retrieving and putting away patient files for the doctor he worked for (and sometimes letting ghosts who wondered in know that the doctor couldn’t see them, but he’d be happy to help). But occasionally, if the receptionist was on his lunch break, he got to answer the phone and take messages, too. 

 

Such was the case on this particular day. The phone rang less than five minutes after the receptionist had stepped out to ‘grab a bite’, and Norman almost considered letting the phone go to voicemail, but his own internal sense of guilt wouldn’t let him do that. He picked it up.

 

“Dr. Wong’s office, Norman speaking, how can I help y-”

 

“Norman! You’re not gonna  _ believe _ what just happened.” 

 

The breathless voice on the other end of the line was instantly recognisable, and the medium sighed.

 

“Dipper, you know you’re not supposed to call me at work.”

 

“I know, I know,” his boyfriend sounded just a little frantic. “But your cell phone is off, and I have to tell you this  _ right now _ .”

 

Norman shot a glance to Dr. Wong’s office door. If he got caught taking a personal call, she’d probably be upset. But Dipper clearly thought this was important enough not to just leave a voicemail on his cell phone…

 

“...alright,” he agreed. “But make it quick - I don’t want to get in trouble.”

 

Dipper obliged, spilling the whole story as quick as he could, in an almost-incoherent stream of babble about mysterious men in black who may or may not have been government agents, about vague threats and knowledge they shouldn’t have known about the Cortile case.

 

“...and they mentioned your name, too,” Dipper began to wrap up this rambly rant of his. “That’s why I had to tell you - if they come after you, you need to be prepared.”

 

“P-prepared?” Norman could hear the nervousness in his own voice. “Dipper, how- how did they even  _ know _ about any of that? Did you get their  _ names _ , or-”

 

“I know! It’s weird, right?”

 

“And… and you think they might have been working for the FBI or something?” the younger man asked, keeping his voice low. This was  _ definitely _ not a phone call he wanted to try to explain to Dr. Wong.

 

“Look, all I’m saying,” Dipper replied, “is that they  _ looked _ like government agents, and that they wanted me to stop ‘investigating’ all this UFO stuff. Doesn’t that seem pretty suspicious to you?”

 

Norman frowned. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

 

“Maybe you should call Linda and reschedule your meeting with her,” he spoke softly. “Whether or not these men were working for some government agency… Couldn’t she be in danger, too?”

 

“Maybe,” Dipper said. “But I’m not cancelling or anything. She has the right to know. I mean this- this is big.  _ Huge _ , even.”

 

“Dipper-”

 

“We need to keep digging.”

 

“Dip, no. Come on. You promised me once you got an actual job you’d stop all this alien hunting…”

 

“That was before the government got involved,” the older man was, as usual, stubborn. “This may be bigger and more important than we could ever imagine!”

 

Norman sighed.

 

“So what are you going to do, then?”

 

“I… I don’t know,” Dipper confessed. “For now? I’m going to meet with Linda as planned. And I’ll figure it out from there.”

 

“Just… be careful, okay? I love you too much to let anyone take you away from me - whether it’s aliens or government agents in snazzy black suits.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I can be careful!” He could  _ hear _ the eyeroll in Dipper’s voice. “I love you too, you little shit.”

 

***

 

_ BROOKLYN _

 

It wasn’t the last Dipper would see of the men in black.

 

The day before he and Norman were scheduled to meet with Linda Cortile, the two men returned to the Korean Taco Cantina and Artisan Vegan Bakery. Just as before, they were seated at table four. Dipper groaned when he came back from break and saw them there.

 

“What the hell?” he demanded from the hostess on duty - a different one than the last time the two suited men (who, Dipper was positive, were clearly working for  _ some _ shady government agency) had come in. “No. No, I can’t serve those guys again - they don’t even order anything!”

 

“They asked to be seated there,” the hostess glared at him. “If Derek finds out you refused to see customers, he’s gonna fire your ass.”

 

“They threatened me last time they were here!” Dipper protested. 

 

The hostess wasn’t having it. She just pointed over to the table and intensified her glare. The message was clear: He could either do his job, or she could call their boss and get him written up for ‘willful disobedience’ or something like that. He sighed. Damn this stupid job.

 

Bracing himself for… well, he didn’t know what he was bracing himself for, but he walked over slowly, more guarded and careful than he normally would. Dipper didn’t trust government agents as a rule (not ever since Agents Powers and Trigger), and these guys were  _ incredibly _ creepy even beyond their suspected governmental affiliations.

 

And god, they were even creepier than he remembered, the way they slowly turned up to him in unison, the way the lights of the restaurant shone off the bald of their heads (what could be seen of them under their black hats, that is), the way they refused to take off their sunglasses.

 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he began. “Before you ask, we still don’t serve sweet potato pie here, but-”

 

“Mr. Pines,” one of them interrupted. “Please understand that it is  _ imperative _ that you listen to us. If you do not cancel your meeting with Miss Cortile and destroy all your evidence immediately, there will be consequences.”

 

Dipper looked around, to make sure none of the hipster customers were listening in, before looking back at the men in black.

 

“What do you mean ‘consequences’?” he asked suspiciously. 

 

“Dire consequences,” the man continued. “For both yourself and for Mr. Babcock.”

 

Brown eyes flew wide as he exclaimed, “You- you leave Norman alone! Do you hear me?! He had nothing to do with this!” 

 

“You  _ will _ destroy your evidence,” the agent’s voice (if he really was an agent of some sort) was calm and almost robotic. It only made Dipper more angry. What were they so afraid of him finding out? And where did they get off threatening Norman like that?!

 

“Or what?” he leaned down a little, face growing hot with fury. “You think threatening my boyfriend is gonna make me listen to you? You think that’s gonna do anything except make me more likely to  _ disobey _ just to spite you assholes?! You know what, maybe I would have been willing to listen before, but you don’t just get to come in here and threaten Norman - he didn’t even want to investigate your damn aliens, so you leave him out of this!”

 

The men in black just stared up at Dipper, letting him finish. Their faces were emotionless the entire time. They didn’t move to arrest him or sedate him or even just to stop him from talking. They just let him rant.

 

And then, once he  _ had _ finished…

 

“It is truly unfortunate, Mr. Pines, that we could not have come to some sort of arrangement,” one of the men said.

 

Before Dipper could react, the two men in black were suddenly both on their feet, brandishing guns - honest-to-god freaking  _ guns _ ! The Pines boy blanched.

 

It happened so fast.

 

One of the patrons of the restaurant noticed what was happening and shrieked, and the gunfire began. From there, it was chaos, and it took all Dipper’s effort to drop to the floor and begin crawling under tables towards the door instead of panicking and freezing up. He could smell the acrid smell of spent gunpowder and overturned pseudo-Korean food; he could hear screaming and crying and the awful echo of shot after shot, bullets ricocheting off the walls.

 

He had to get out of there, he had to get to Norman before these guys did.

 

The table he was under toppled over - had someone done it on purpose? Or had they kicked it over in a panicked effort to escape? Dipper didn’t stop to find out. Keeping low, he raced towards the kitchen, leaping through the pass-through the cooks used to give the waiters the food instead of using the door - there was no  _ time _ for doors!

 

The kitchen was even louder, the way pots and pans and silverware were being tossed about as even the chefs panicked and tried to figure out “what’s going on?!” and “is someone fucking  _ shooting _ at us?!”

 

Dipper almost wanted to apologise to them. It wasn’t their fault this was happening. But he couldn’t stop. He ducked out the back door and kept running.

 

He had to keep running. 

 

Just in case.

 

***

 

_ WASHINGTON, D.C. _

 

Agent Collins kicked back in his office, reclining in his chair with his feet on the desk as he loudly slurped the sinewy meat from a chicken wing. His office - a  _ private _ office, only the best for Special Agent Ross Collins - was typically messy, the trash can overflowing, with a complete lack of personal photos on the walls or in frames on the desk. What need did he have for personal photos, after all? Why  _ not _ give these FBI mooks the illusion that this job was his entire life?

 

After all, even if he didn’t necessarily  _ like _ any of his coworkers, they’d certainly served him well  so far. He’d learned a lot of interesting things in his time here.

 

And he was so, so close to getting the ultimate prize. He could almost taste it. It tasted like chicken.

 

The phone rang.

 

Not even bothering to wipe the chicken grease from his fingers, he grabbed the phone.

 

“Collins.”

 

“Pines has refused to accept our terms,” as usual, the voice on the other end cut right to the chase, not bothering with small talk. Collins could respect that. “We attempted to take him by force, as directed, but he’s escaped.”

 

Agent Collins laughed into the receiver. Of  _ course _ Dipper Pines had escaped. He hadn’t expected anything less. Anyone who broke into the base at Montauk wasn’t just going to hand over some flash drive like everything was hunky-dory.

 

“We’ve searched for him, but he isn’t at his residence, either. We suspect he may have run to warn his-”

 

“Let him run,” Collins shrugged, still chuckling.

 

“Sir?”

 

“He can’t run forever, after all. Oh, he’ll try - I know his type - but he won’t get far. Trust me. Let him think he’s escaped and let his guard down. And then…”

 

He paused. Dramatic effect was important to him, even if it’d be lost on these idiots.

 

“Sir?” the voice on the other end of the line repeated. “‘And then’ what?”

 

“And then,” Collins grinned, though no one was there to see it, “go in for the kill.”

 

***

 

_ QUEENS _

 

Dipper had run for three blocks, over ice and brown slush, before the adrenalin had worn off and he’d had to stop and catch his breath. From there, he’d called Norman and told him everything, and the medium, worried, had looked sick enough that his boss had thought he was about to throw up and sent him home for the day.

 

Dipper had probably beaten him home. Where else would he have gone? Norman wasted no time, running up the stairs to make sure Dipper was okay after being  _ shot at _ .

 

How had it happened, he wondered? One day, they were consoling some woman terrified of being abducted by aliens, and less than a week later they were being shot at by government agents?

 

“Good afternoon, Norman,” Jimmy the ghost janitor greeted him a little less jovially than usual. “You’re home early.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Norman shook his head. “I don’t have time to talk, I- did Dipper come home?”

 

Jimmy nodded, gripping his ghostly broom a little tighter and looking away. “And that’s not all. You had… visitors, earlier.”

 

Norman froze on the stairs.  _ Visitors _ ?

 

“Were… were they wearing black suits and sunglasses?” His voice sounded so small and far away. He was frightened.

 

“Why, yes, actually!” The ghost seemed surprised, and Norman felt as if his heart was dropping into his stomach.

 

He didn’t wait around to hear anymore. He ran - he had to get to Dipper  _ immediately _ .

 

The apartment was in shambles. It seemed as if all the drawers in the place had been opened. Furniture had been overturned. Clothes and plates and random horror movie memorabilia were all over the floor. Even some of the couch cushions had been slashed open - with knives? - and had some of their fluff spilled all over the place. Someone had completely torn the place apart. Norman had never seen anything like it - Dipper at his worst wasn’t even this messy.

 

In the middle of all this stood his boyfriend, taking it all in.

 

“They did this?” Norman asked. “The men in black? They… Dipper?”

 

The older man turned to face his boyfriend, trying and failing to disguise the fear behind those brown eyes - they always had been so expressive.

 

“They were looking for this,” he dug into his pocket, and brandished the thumb drive that held all the photos from Montauk. “I was going to give it to Linda tomorrow, but… Norman, they…”

 

“I know,” the medium nodded. And he did know.

 

They’d threatened them. They’d tried to seriously hurt Dipper. They’d invaded their home. And if they really were government agents, there was no one Norman or Dipper could go to in order to set things right.

 

It was terrifying.

 

“We can’t stay here tonight,” the older continued. “They’re probably looking for us.”

 

“Dipper…”

 

“Don’t ‘Dipper’ me. They said they were gonna hurt you, Norman! I’m not gonna let that happen...”

 

There was a pause that hung heavy in the air as both of them tried to figure out how to even  _ begin _ to know what to do.

 

Norman took his boyfriend’s hand. Dipper squeezed affectionately in return - he always  had  been one to draw comfort from touch like that.

 

“Alright,” he tried to sound confident as he looked down into those scared brown eyes. “We’ll get a motel room for tonight. No big deal. And then tomorrow you can decide if you still want to give those pictures to Linda or not. Okay?”

 

At first, Norman was worried Dipper would argue with this, argue that it  was a big deal, that this was so much bigger than Linda Cortile now. (Norman knew that, of course. But he also knew how Dipper could get.)

 

But then, the older boy nodded.

 

“Okay,” he agreed. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s… let’s get a motel room. Okay.”

 

Norman smiled in a way he hoped was comforting. 

 

But deep down, he was just as scared as Dipper was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Smith lied to us all about what the Men in Black are really like.


	6. Aries

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Mabel looked worried when Pacifica entered their apartment, back from a bank appointment. (The blonde loved Mabel, but she knew her girlfriend was terrible with the financial stuff. Not that Pacifica hadn’t been too, at first, but she’d quickly learned in college that she actually had more of a knack for it than she thought. It was nice to know she was actually good at something instead of just trained to be so.)

 

The brunette girl was currently sitting on the couch, staring at where her phone lay on the table, chipping off bits of her glittery nail polish absentmindedly. Pacifica wished she wouldn’t do that.

 

She sat down next to her girlfriend, giving her a look, hoping Mabel would open up and start talking about what was wrong on her own - even after all these years, Pacifica still wasn’t very good at figuring out how to start conversations like this. She did at least reach over and grab one of her hands - tentatively - to stop the brunette from getting glittery bits of manicure all over their carpet. Her watch got tangled in the four-thread bracelet Mabel always wore (Pacifica had a matching one on her ankle). She didn’t mind.

 

“What’s that look for?” Mabel squeezed her hand, reaching over with her free hand to ruffle Pacifica’s blonde bob. (She’d cut her hair short in college - one final act of teenaged rebellion - and never looked back.)

 

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied, then smirked and teased her a little, hoping to lighten the mood: “What, did you, like, see a cat on the other side of the road and it ran away before you could pet it?”

 

“Pfft,” Mabel blew a piece of hair from her face, “if  _ that _ happened I’d be in  _ tears _ !”

 

Pacifica shook her head. “So… what’s the deal, then?”

 

(“What’s the deal”? Pacifica cringed - What was she, twelve?)

 

Mabel handed her the cell phone wordlessly. It was already open to a voicemail from Dipper. God, what had he done  now ? The last Pacifica had heard from the boys, Dipper had lost his job.

 

The voicemail was rambly and incoherent, and it sounded like he was outside in a parking lot somewhere, so she couldn’t even hear half of what he was saying anyway. What little that  was audible was barely understandable - stuff about government agents and secret underground morgues and something about a motel in  _ New Jersey _ .

 

“I tried calling him back like seven times!” Mabel exclaimed. “He won’t pick up his phone!”

 

Of  _ course _ she was worried about her brother. Of course.

 

“Did you try calling Norman?” Pacifica asked.

 

“His phone is  _ dead _ !”

 

“Of course it is,” she sighed. “Look. Whatever is going on with them, I’m sure it’s fine. Your brother will call you back as soon as he sees all the missed calls. You  _ know _ he will.”

 

Mabel wilted a little. They both knew it was true - Dipper was such a worrier that more than one missed call from Mabel usually resulted in a frantic ‘I swear to god Mabel you’d better not be dead’ call. But the brunette still didn’t look  _ happy _ .

 

Pacifica sighed. Cheering people up was  Mabel’s territory, not hers. She was used to her girlfriend being a constant ray of sunshine, the only person who knew how to get Pacifica to smile, or even  _ laugh _ , after a particularly bad day or a bell-induced panic.

 

She didn’t much like the tables being turned. She was  _ not _ a ray of sunshine. Well-dressed sarcasm that occasionally veered into bitterness, maybe, but not sunshine. Never sunshine.

 

“Why don’t we just…” she started, then shook her head, feeling the platinum blonde hair swoosh around her ears. “Hm… let’s just turn on the TV? Get your mind off things? Maybe some cartoon you like is on?”

 

“Maybe,” Mabel smirked at her, throwing her arms around her girlfriend and pulling her into a hug, so Pacifica’s face was pressed against her chest. “Aw, Paz! Look at you, trying to make me feel better and junk!”

 

“It’s not a big deal!” The blonde’s face flushed. “Just turn the damn TV on!”

 

The younger girl obliged, grabbing the remote and flipping the television on, fully intending to change it away from the channel she’d left it on when watching late night trash TV the other night.

 

Until Pacifica noticed something very familiar on the screen of the news broadcast.

 

“Wait, wait,” she sat up away from Mabel’s chest, earning a little whine from the other girl. “Is that- no, that can’t be right...”

 

And it  _ couldn ’t _ be right, it couldn’t  _ possibly _ be. Because the blurry surveillance photo that currently hung over the head of the news anchor - the one labeled ‘Montauk, New York’ - looked a hell of a lot like the familiar spiky hair of Norman Babcock.

 

“Turn it up!” Pacifica demanded, as if her girlfriend weren’t already doing so.

 

“...suspected of breaking into an air force base and stealing classified material,” the news anchor was saying, “as well as inciting yesterday’s shooting incident at a popular restaurant in Brooklyn.”

 

The image on the screen changed to a cell phone video taken at the most hipster looking place Pacifica had ever seen - which, considering she came from Oregon, was really saying something. And in the video, ducking under tables - that was  _ unmistakably _ Dipper!

 

“Oh my god…” Pacifica murmured, looking over at her girlfriend. Mabel was watching the screen intently, some of the rosiness in her cheeks giving way to a pale, sickened look at what the news anchor was saying.

 

“The couple’s apartment is currently under surveillance,” the news anchor continued. “If you have any knowledge of their whereabouts, please contact this phone number.”

 

A phone number flashed at the bottom of a screen, as well as two out-of-date photos of Dipper and Norman (Mabel had taken those photos. Where had the news gotten them?) and their names (They used Dipper’s legal name - he wouldn’t have liked that) and perceived charges.

 

“Domestic terrorism?” Mabel shook her head. “Dipper, what did you two  _ do _ ?”

 

Pacifica grabbed her girlfriend’s cell phone.

 

“We need to try calling them again!”

 

***

 

_ JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY _

 

Dipper and Norman checked out of the motel shortly before eleven a.m. It was without a doubt the worst night either of them had had in awhile - the bed had been freezing cold, uncomfortable, and slightly smelly; and Dipper didn’t even  _ want _ to know what was causing the weird green stain on the ceiling. The man behind the counter didn’t even look up from his phone as Dipper handed over a stack of cash - so much for saving his tip money to take Norman out to dinner!

 

“If I never stay in a shitty motel again for the rest of my life, it’ll be too soon,” he complained as they walked back to where the van was parked, patting the pockets of his pants. “Where the hell is my phone?”

 

“You left it in the van overnight,” Norman responded, failing to fully repress a yawn.

 

“You didn’t tell me?”

 

“You didn’t ask.”

 

“You little shit,” Dipper jokingly shoved him right as they got back to the van, but when Norman gave him that  _ look _ with those tired, blue eyes - the kind he only gave when exhausted, the ‘quit joking around and just hold me already’ look as Dipper liked to think of it - he couldn’t help but pull the medium into a warm embrace. 

 

Norman muttered something incoherent, but the tone was clear. The night had been shit on both of them.

 

“Hey, come on,” he murmured in reply, standing on his tiptoes just a little so as to better match Norman’s height. (As much as he could, anyway - Norman was  _ tall _ .) “It’s over now. We can go back into New York, meet with Linda, and then go check on the apartment, see if it’s safe…”

 

The younger boy shrugged, not replying verbally. Dipper sighed, pulled back to face him.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Norman looked away, speaking quietly. “It’s just… You honestly still think we even  _ can _ meet with Linda? After everything… maybe we shouldn’t.”

 

The older boy paused, considering that. He hated to admit it, but Norman was probably right. There was no guaranteeing that the men in black wouldn’t be waiting there for them if they met her as planned - and it just wasn’t fair to drag some innocent women into this.

 

He sighed. They were potentially losing hundreds of dollars here. But his conscience had spoken.

 

“Alright, Jiminy Cricket, I’ll call her and tell her the meeting’s off,” Dipper let go of his boyfriend to dig his keys out of his pocket and open the van - there was his phone, just as Norman had said, sitting in the driver’s seat still.

 

Seemingly relieved he’d listened, Norman leaned over and pecked Dipper on the cheek, almost  _ shy _ about it. Almost.

 

Dipper grabbed his phone, sliding into the driver’s seat through the passenger’s side rather than walking all the way around, only to find that he’d missed thirteen calls from Mabel. He blanched.

 

“What’s that look for?” Norman followed him into the van, slamming the door behind him - the van was so old, the door wouldn’t stay shut otherwise, though it made both of the young men jump every time.

 

“Mabel called me, like, a bazillion times,” he exaggerated a little in his worry.

 

“After the voicemail you left her, I’m not surprised,” the younger man replied. 

 

“I’m calling her back right now.”

 

The phone only rang once before Mabel picked up, screeching so loud from over in California that Dipper had to hold the phone half a foot away from his face:

 

“Dipper! Paz and I have been trying to get ahold of you all  _ morning _ ! Where on earth have you  _ been _ ?! Are you home?!”

 

“We just left a motel in Jersey City,” Dipper responded, though he hadn’t actually started the engine yet. “We’re going home right now.”

 

“Don’t!” Mabel exclaimed.

 

“...what? Why?”

 

“Because you’re gonna get arrested!” His sister continued to screech at him. Dipper continued to hold the phone away from his face while she did so. It wasn’t like Mabel to yell at him this much - she must’ve been _ really _ upset. “The people on the news said-”

 

“What news?”

 

“ _ Dipper _ ! Breaking into some army base and stealing government property? I’m all for adventure, and I know you guys are all about the mystery stuff, but what were you two  _ thinking _ ?”

 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dipper frowned, shooting Norman a look. (The medium looked just as bewildered as Dipper felt.) “Breaking in? Stealing? That base was abandoned, and all we did was take photos of a UFO! We didn’t steal anything! Is that what they’re saying about us?!”

 

“A UFO,” Mabel sounded incredulous. “Dipper, I don’t know what’s going on -  _ maybe _ you should call your _ twin sister  _ a little more often, keep her updated on your weird life - but what I  _ do _ know is that you two are on the news, they’re saying you’re wanted for domestic terrorism, and you can’t go home or you’re going to end up in Guantanamo Bay or something - somewhere that Paz and I can’t bail you out of, no matter how much money we pay!”

 

“D-domestic terrorism…” Dipper could hear how raw his voice sounded. It felt like his heart was dropping into his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen - all he’d wanted was to get proof of aliens. The search for the truth wasn’t supposed to lead to  _ this _ .

 

Like a scared child in the water, he reached out as if to anchor himself so he didn’t float away and drown in this newfound fear. His hand found Norman’s, held on for dear life as he listened to his sister’s voice. Her loudness was less annoying by the second - it was a  _ comfort _ now. Mabel had probably just saved their lives.

 

“Dipper, I’m  _ scared _ , okay?” She confessed. “Of  _ course _ I don’t want to believe that you would steal something, or cause a ‘shooting incident’ or whatever-”

 

“They’re blaming me for that? Mabel, they shot at  _ me _ !”

 

“-the point is you’re my baby brother. I may not be Mr. King Worrywart like you, but I worry about you too, you know. And about Normy, too.”

 

“A-alright,” he nodded, wilting a little. “Alright. We won’t go home, then. We’ll lay low for awhile. Figure things out. Th-thanks, Mabel.”

 

“I love you, alright?” She said.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

He hung up, somewhat shakily, turning to Norman as he still gripped his hand.

 

“...so where are we going to go?” Norman broke the silence, and Dipper realised it was the first thing his boyfriend had said since before he’d called his sister.

 

He groaned. “I don’t know. I don’t  _ know _ , okay?” 

 

He pulled his hand away so he could use both his hands to cover his face, sinking down in his seat a little.

 

“H-hey…” Norman’s voice was weak - he probably didn’t know what to do either. “Dipper…”

 

He raised his head to look into those blue eyes, only to be greeted with the same fear that he was feeling in his own heart.

 

“Norman, we’re wanted for domestic terrorism - they’re framing it like we’re the bad guys!”

 

“I- I know, I heard Mabel too…” those blue eyes looked down, away from Dipper.

 

“Are you mad at me?” He asked. Norman had every right to be mad at him - he’d  _ told _ Dipper from the beginning not to get involved with all this alien stuff.

 

There was a pause, and he waited for his boyfriend to get angry. But, of course, like always, that anger never came.

 

“...of course I’m not mad at you,” Norman sighed.

 

“Really? Because I know you never wanted to get involved with any of that stuff.”

 

“And I know you never wanted to be shot at and forced to… I don’t know, go on the run or whatever,” the medium continued. “It’s not your fault, Dip. It’s not really anyone’s fault. It’s just… a shitty situation. So what are we going to do now? Drive west to Mabel?”

 

“ _ No _ ,” he replied emphatically. “I won’t have her and Pacifica dragged down, too. They had nothing to do with this and the damn government has no business with them!”

 

“Alright, so no California then,” Norman pursed his lips, thought for a second. “And no New York. There’s still 48 other states.”

 

The gears in Dipper’s head turned as he tried to figure out what to do, tried to think of a plan as quick as possible. They were sitting ducks here in this New Jersey parking lot, waiting for some government agents to come pick them off with guns.

 

There was only one option. He didn’t like it, but it didn’t seem like they had any other choice.

 

“48 other states…” he mumbled.

 

“...Dipper?” Norman furrowed his brows. “Dip, what are you thinking?”

 

“We go on the run. We don’t stop anywhere long enough for them to pin down our location. State to state to state until a better plan presents itself. Like… like a road trip.”

 

“A road trip,” at first, the younger man didn’t sound convinced. Then, he sighed, resigned. “If… if that’s what you want.”

 

It wasn’t what Dipper wanted. Not like this, anyway.

 

But at this point, what other choice did they have?


	7. Taurus

_ MILLERSVILLE, PENNSYLVANIA _

 

Norman was still trying to decide if driving the extra hour had been worth it. Small town motels were radically cheaper, but the van wasn’t exactly gas-efficient, so they were probably spending the same amount of money either way. 

 

This motel had given them a room with two tiny beds - it hadn’t even occurred to the perky girl behind the desk to ask if two men wanted to share one. He sat on one of the beds eating a McDonald's dollar-menu hamburger (not his favourite dinner in the world, but he didn’t know how far their money would stretch) and watching Dipper go through the “road trip supplies” he’d picked up at the Millersville drugstore.

 

“Try this on,” Dipper handed him a navy blue beanie. The older boy was, himself, wearing a grey beanie. “Your hair’s probably your most distinctive feature, so we need to figure out how to hide it.”

 

“It’s gonna fly off my head,” Norman frowned, but he tried it on anyway to placate Dipper. He knew his boyfriend liked to feel useful when things started to get overwhelming. Sure enough, his hair expelled the garment from his head after a few seconds, sending it flying upwards and then in an arc down towards the floor. He sighed as he picked it up, and said, “maybe I should just, you know. Shave it off.”

 

Dipper looked horrified.

 

“You can’t do that!”

 

“It’s my ‘most distinctive feature’ isn’t it?” Despite the relative horror of the situation, Norman couldn’t help but smirk a little. (He needed to find  _ some _ humour in the situation, or else the reality of losing his home and his job and his status as a respectable non-terrorist citizen would destroy him.)

 

The older boy came over to join him on the bed, running his fingers through the spikes of Norman’s hair. It always felt really nice when Dipper did this - and he was the only person who had ever done it, petting his boyfriend as easily as a normal person might pet a puppy. It was comforting. Norman liked Dipper’s hands, calluses and all.

 

“Don’t shave it,” Dipper whined. “I love your hair. Try it again, alright?”

 

“Alright,” Norman was amused now - his boyfriend was so stubborn - “but I don’t think it’s gonna act any differently just because you want it to.”

 

He placed the beanie on again, and before it could be expelled by his gravity-defying hair, Dipper whipped the grey one off of his own head, slamming it over the blue one on Norman’s.

 

Incredibly, the weight of both of them together seemed to hold - only a few strands in the front escaped.

 

Dipper laughed triumphantly. It wasn’t his normal, easy laugh - there was still some fear behind it - but Norman liked hearing it anyway.

 

The moment was ruined when Norman’s phone, charging on the nightstand between the two beds, began to vibrate. He sighed, pulling away from Dipper to see who was calling him. He expected it was probably Pacifica - she’d called him twice once his phone was charged (via a car charger), trying to get him to let her wire them some money. (Dipper vetoed this suggestion both times - they couldn’t trust banks, and using a debit or credit card would make it easier for the government to trace them. After one last ATM run in New Jersey, it had to be cash only from here on out.)

 

It wasn’t Pacifica Northwest’s face that showed on the small screen, however, but Perry Babcock’s.

 

Norman froze. Of course his father would see them on the news. And of course he’d be calling to demand to know what the hell was going on. Why was his son suddenly a wanted terrorist? He’d probably blame Dipper for it.

 

The medium pressed ‘ignore’. Then, for good measure, he shut his phone off. He wasn’t prepared to deal with that right now. He was scared enough without Perry nagging his ear off.

 

“What was that all about?” Dipper asked.

 

Norman considered lying and saying it was Pacifica again, but he couldn’t do that, so he just said, “do  _ you _ want to explain to my father why we’re in some small town in the middle of nowhere?”

 

“Not really,” the older boy frowned, wrinkling his nose. “Let’s just go to bed and worry about it in the morning, yeah?”

 

“Y-yeah… alright,” he smiled weakly in return.

 

The two laid down in the darkness, Norman cuddling up into Dipper’s side the way they did every night. This bed, though small, was at least softer than the ones in New Jersey.

 

None of this felt quite  _ real _ yet. Norman still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t wake up the next day back in Queens to find out it had all been some weird dream brought on by too much spiciness in their Chinese take out or something. The neon lights filtering in through the windows - the scratchy linen sheets that smelled faintly of something artificial and a little too sterile - it only added to the surreality of it all.

 

Norman didn’t fall asleep for a very long time. He just lay awake in the darkness of this strange motel room in Pennsylvania, listening to Dipper breathe.

 

***

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

The next morning had come too soon, and Norman could  feel the tired heaviness in his eyelids as he brewed the coffee included in the room. It looked and smelled terrible already, and he  _ knew _ the motel staff hadn’t included  _ nearly _ enough sugar or non-dairy creamer for him to be able to stomach it. But Dipper could hardly function in the mornings without coffee. As was made evident by the way he was tearing all the sheets off of the bed they’d slept in.

 

“The van is parked right outside,” Dipper answered. As if that made things any clearer… “We could probably fit this mattress in the back. Help me move it.”

 

“We’re not doing that,” Norman answered flatly, pouring the watery motel coffee into a styrofoam cup, and turning to hand it to his boyfriend. “Put the corner of the mattress down, Dip. I’m not letting you steal it. The motel staff didn’t do anything to deserve that. Why do you want to take it so bad?”

 

“So that some nights we can sleep in the van! It’s not like we can get any  _ more _ wanted.”

 

He sighed, walking over and grabbing Dipper’s hand to get it off of the mattress. He was too tired for this shit.

 

“Dipper, just drink your coffee and check out so we can get on the road.”

 

In his exhaustion, it had come out just a little bit more irritably than he’d intended, and Norman cringed inwardly when he saw Dipper do a bit of a double take at that.

 

But then, the older man wilted, dropped the mattress entirely, and took the coffee from him, sipping it slowly. (He grimaced at the watered-down taste of it, of course, but didn’t make any comments about that.)

 

“Why are you such a good person?” he offered Norman a pout, and the younger man almost considered kissing him right on that jutted out lower lip, except that he knew for a fact that Dipper hadn’t brushed his teeth yet, and his breath smelled _ terrible _ in the mornings.

 

“L-let’s just load up the van and check out, alright?” He didn’t dignify that with a reply.

 

The van was parked right outside their room, which made it easy enough to throw their stuff into the back of it. Norman yawned, stretched his long arms over his head-

 

“Shit!”

 

-and then yelped out loud when Dipper cursed and dropped his hot coffee, splashing Norman’s skinny jeans with the boiling hot liquid.

 

“Dipper! What-”

 

“ _ Shhhh _ ,” Dipper shushed him, gesturing with his unshaved chin towards the other end of the parking lot.

 

The reason for his minor freak out was soon obvious. There, at the other end of the parking lot, were three cop cars. The police - along with two men in black suits - were speaking to the perky motel girl from the previous night. She was gesturing over towards their room, and Norman gasped involuntarily. How had they found them? Where, along the way, had they screwed up? And what was going to happen to them now? 

 

“Norman,” his boyfriend snapped him out of this fearful daze, “get in the van.  _ Now _ .”

 

He didn’t have to tell him twice.

 

Dipper _ floored _ the gas pedal, and the tires on the van screeched loudly on the icy pavement as they peeled out of the motel parking lot. They swerved back and forth on the road a bit - it was slippery with winter’s frost, and the windshield was frosted over a bit as well, so they couldn’t even see where they were going as Dipper sped through the streets of this sleepy Pennsylvania town.

 

Norman could hear the sirens behind them as the van swerved around a corner a little too sharply, slamming him into the door. He cried out more in shock than in pain.

 

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” His boyfriend exclaimed. 

 

“Don’t be sorry, just  _ drive _ !”

 

Dipper continued to mumble apologies as he kept the pedal to the floor, the unwieldy white van positively  _ ripping _ through the suburbs of the little town. Norman squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists on the edge of the seat, as he waited for them to either evade the cops entirely or to spin out and wait for their arrest.

 

Finally - after too damn long - the van slowed. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. They were back on the interstate, with the cops nowhere to be seen. Dipper’s eyes were locked straight ahead, his knuckles white from how tight he was gripping the steering wheel. He was panting slightly as the adrenalin began to wear off.

 

“We’re safe,” his voice was hoarse between pants, “for now.”

 

Norman nodded shakily. ‘For now’ - he had no idea how to even respond to that. It was a miracle they’d even managed to avoid the cops for  _ this _ long, and he was beginning to wonder if they were only prolonging the inevitable.

 

Dipper pulled over to the side of the highway. It was still early enough that there were barely any other cars to whizz by them. He hunched over the steering wheel, and for a few seconds Norman was afraid he was about to get sick.

 

The only thing that erupted from the older man’s mouth, however, was a long string of curses:

 

“Fuck… Fuck! Shit! Shit fuck goddamn fucking FBI and their stupid fucking asshole cops- Fucking  _ shit ! _ ”

 

“Are you done?” The medium muttered dryly.

 

“How did they even  _ find _ us?” Dipper groaned, throwing his hands up in distress. 

 

Thinking quickly, Norman reached over and grabbed one of those slightly-shaky hands, bringing it down out of the air to rest in his lap. He opened his mouth as if to reply, as if to say something comforting - he needed to calm Dipper down - but before he could even begin to think of what to say, his phone vibrated.

 

It was Perry again.

 

Dipper’s face went white.

 

“Don’t pick up,” he instructed Norman.

 

“I wasn’t going t-”

 

“It’s the phones. It’s the fucking smartphones. I should have known!”

 

“What?”

 

“This,” Dipper grabbed the phone, “is how they’re tracking us! You- you know they can use computers to, like, hack into the phone’s camera and data chip and-  _ God _ , it’s a game of cat and mouse to them!”

 

Had Dipper said this two weeks prior, Norman would have assured him he was being too paranoid. Now, he wasn’t so sure. After all, if the maps app could pinpoint their location when they needed directions, it wasn’t at  _ all _ a big stretch that agents seeking out wanted terrorists could.

 

“We have to get rid of them…” he muttered.

 

Dipper sighed heavily. “Damn it… you’re right. I wish you weren’t - there are some really cute photos of you on here-”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“-but you’re right. Mabel and Pacifica aren’t gonna like that...”

 

Norman squeezed his hand. “They’ll understand.”

 

“Write down their numbers,” the older boy’s face changed. Norman knew that look - the gears in his brain were turning and he was  _ planning _ something. “We’ll have to get those really old phones with no cameras that can’t connect to the internet, since nowhere has pay phones anymore. Don’t call  _ anyone _ on those phones except for Mabel or Pacifica. Not your parents. Not Neil. Not Courtney. Not even me.”

 

“O-okay,” he nodded. “Whatever you wanna do, Dip. I trust you.”

 

And as much as the situation sucked, he did trust him. Dipper was all he  _ could _ trust, now that the rest of the world had stopped making sense to him. The government was threatening them with terrorism charges over something Norman still wasn’t even sure existed - what else could he do but put all the faith he had left into Dipper?

 

***

 

_ I-80 WEST _

 

Dipper couldn’t believe they’d found a place even willing to sell them the old brick phones that were probably as old as they were. It had taken over half of their money - and he was really wishing, now, that they  _ had _ stolen the mattress from the motel in Pennsylvania to keep in the van, because their funds were going faster than he expected, and he wasn’t sure how many motels they’d be able to afford before the money ran out entirely. 

 

They’d been on this lonely stretch of highway for awhile. He wasn’t even entirely sure what state they were in, though if he had to guess, he’d have guessed Iowa. After the first few hours, it all started to look the same. All they saw out the windows were endless snow-covered fields which had once been filled with corn (seriously, who the fuck was eating that much corn?!) and the occasional billboard warning of hellfire and damnation.

 

As if their situation wasn’t already hellish.

 

“I never meant for this to happen, you know…” he muttered, more to himself than to Norman.

 

“Dipper, come on…” the medium looked over. “I know that already. I know you’ve always been interested in aliens and UFOs and stuff. I’m not going to blame you for trying to learn more about them.”

 

Aliens. Right. Dipper didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry - he’d been so worried all day about not getting caught and thrown in prison that he’d almost forgotten what the government was after in the first place. The flash drive with all the evidence was still in the side pocket of his hastily-packed duffel bag.

 

All this trouble over something so small… what was it the government didn’t want going public? And what on earth were they going to do about it? Give in and destroy the evidence? Post it online somewhere?

 

His head was beginning to hurt.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Norman was still talking.

 

“Yeah, but you still tried to warn me about… I don’t know. Everything.”

 

The younger man raised one eyebrow. “Do you  _ want _ me to be mad at you?”

 

“Of course not!” Dipper exclaimed. He didn’t know what he wanted. Forgiveness? Acknowledgement, maybe? But he didn’t want Norman to be upset - he needed him more than ever right now. 

 

They didn’t have anything else, after all.

 

For a minute, Norman looked as if he had a response to that. But then, he closed his lips - which had been slightly parted - and turned to face the window again, speaking only after a few seconds of silence:

 

“There’s a rest stop coming up at the next exit. We should probably eat dinner. Since we skipped lunch and all.”

 

The older of the pair could almost hear his wallet whine in protest. But he knew Norman was right.

 

He took the exit off the freeway to the rest stop. The van needed gas anyway, if they expected to keep going westward, as far away from New York and the FBI as possible.

 

***

 

The rest stop was large and empty enough that Norman was beginning to wonder if it was possible to get lost among the linoleum aisles, the brightly coloured signs beckoning him towards lottery tickets and preservative-laced junk food, and slightly-too-harsh fluorescent lighting. Dipper had instructed him to go in ahead of him while he put gas in the tank outside. There was hardly anyone in here - a few truckers both living and dead, but no one even looked at him. They were in just as big a hurry to get in and out of here as he was.

 

It was almost sad, in a way. No one wanted to be here. This was just a place people ended up on their way to somewhere else. It was perpetually between Here and There - wherever There ended up being.

 

Not for the first time, he wished he knew. It was the not knowing that was the worst. The constantly being in between.

 

“Check it out,” a familiar voice behind him startled him enough to make him jump, “they sell ‘Fortean Times’ here.”

 

“Dipper, you scared the shit out of me.” 

 

His boyfriend at least had the decency to look sheepish as he replied, “I didn’t mean to… but you don’t have to be  _ embarrassed _ or anything. There’s nobody even in here.”

 

Norman pouted a little at that. “There’s the one trucker over there, by the lottery tickets.”

 

“What? Where?”

 

“There! Right th-” he turned to point out the stranger to Dipper, but upon inspection the man in question had tire marks and blood all over him, as if he’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

 

The fluorescent lighting in this place was so harsh and almost sickly green that Norman hadn’t even noticed the man was a ghost. Or maybe this place - and this whole damn road trip - was just beginning to get to his head.

 

(After all, it wasn’t as if he’d ever had a good road trip experience. The last road trip he remembered taking had involved a lot of his then-preteened sister screaming at him the whole time to stay on “his side of the car” and Perry yelling at him until he cried over how “embarrassing” it was for an eight-year-old - Norman’s age at the time - to still have “imaginary friends”. All in all, Norman still wasn’t sure if this road trip he was on now was better or worse.)

 

“Norman?” Dipper’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he shook his head.

 

“Put the magazine back, Dipper. We can’t afford it.”

 

“Duh, that’s why I was reading it now,” Dipper closed the magazine and shoved it into a nearby rack full of air fresheners. “Come on, let’s grab some shitty, overprocessed rest stop dinner, alright? You ready for the worst meal of your life?”

 

Despite his general unease, Norman couldn’t help but smile. He appreciated the fact that Dipper was trying to joke with him, to make him feel better, even if the jokes themselves fell flat.

 

They picked out their food (a bologna and “cheese” sandwich for Norman, and a terrible-smelling burrito for Dipper) and paid for it, heading back out into the frigid winter air, to the gas pump that Dipper had left the van parked at. The lone big rig truck left in the parking lot was leaving right as they stepped outside.

 

Norman shivered as he chewed on the plastic wrap around his sandwich, attempting to open it with his teeth. Even with the two beanies on his head, with the sweater and jacket and one of Dipper’s flannels, he was cold. His hands were bare, and his skin looked almost translucent in this light. It wasn’t making the opening of his damn sandwich any easier.

 

He heard Dipper gasp beside him:

 

“Norman. Look.”

 

“Hm?” He didn’t look up at first, still trying to get his sandwich open.

 

“Just  _ look _ , alright?”

 

The younger man’s attention was piqued by the tone of Dipper’s voice, and he whipped his head up to look at his boyfriend, only to find his brown eyes blown wide and rapt with attention over whatever was just in front of him. Norman, too, turned to see what Dipper was seeing.

 

The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon of the vast, empty field on the other side of the road. The sky was painted - it really did look as if some giant had taken a paint brush - with an array of oranges, pinks, and yellows. These colours - hundreds and hundreds of them - were reflected softly in the glittering snow below, and the overall effect was almost magically unreal. The few clouds in the sky were punctuated with the glimmering rays of light from the setting sun, promising a calm and peaceful night to come, and the pale glow of the moon was just beginning to show in the corners of Norman’s vision. It all made him feel very small. And yet, it was  _ beautiful _ .

 

He reached out and grabbed Dipper’s hand, taking comfort in his warmth as the two young men stood there in the parking lot and watched the sun sink lower and lower into the edge of the earth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh half the reason I wrote this fic was because I love road trip shenanigans.


	8. Gemini

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Mabel was sick of watching the news. 

 

Ever since they had found out Dipper and Norman were wanted for some trumped up fake charge, Pacifica had decided to blare news networks all day, both on the television and streaming on both of their laptops. The blonde was desperate for any information she could get concerning this whole stupid situation - especially since trying to call either of the boys only lead to an automated recording that said, “we’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.”

 

It was really frustrating to only hear from them every few days from a pay phone in a new state, and Mabel hated not knowing where they were. She hated thinking that any moment, some government agent could find them and  _ shoot _ them or something. And all these news channels - with their constant tales of doom and gloom around the world - were  _ not _ helping her feel any better. 

 

She just wanted to help. She’d  _ always _ just wanted to help. It killed her that she couldn’t help Dipper, she couldn’t help Norman, she couldn’t even help the woman she loved more than anyone or anything in the world! No matter  _ what _ she said!

 

So she did what she always did when she was stressed. The only way to escape the constant news networks - the only way to do  _ anything _ right now for Pacifica, to feel even a  _ little _ bit useful when everything was spiraling out of control - was to  create .

 

“Paaaazzzzz,” she called into the living room from the kitchen, mixing a bowl of cake batter, “Do you want me to mix sprinkles right into the cupcakes, or just put them on top?”

 

Pacifica didn’t even look up from the laptop as she responded, “Whatever you wanna do, I guess?”

 

Mabel sighed, blowing some hair out of her face.

 

“The cupcakes are for  _ you _ , so it’s whatever  _ you _ wanna do!”

 

The blonde didn’t reply, and Mabel’s shoulders drooped. She knew Pacifica was scared - it wasn’t like she wasn’t scared too - but  everyone loved cupcakes! Cupcakes could  _ always _ put a smile on someone’s face…

 

...right?

 

Before she could think anymore about it, the door of their apartment knocked. It was such a surprise to Mabel (because they definitely weren’t expecting any company right now; how could they entertain at a time like this?) that she nearly dropped the bowl of cake batter. Catching it at the last second, though some of it did splatter onto the floor and her shoes, she placed the bowl on the counter, licking some stray batter off one of her fingers as she went to answer the door.

 

She didn’t recognise the man at the door. He was in a nice black suit, and Mabel appreciated his swanky style, but she had no idea who he was.   
  


“Uh…” she began, lowering her hand from her mouth, but when the strange man flashed an FBI badge at her, her eyes widened and she stepped back, beginning to close the door.

 

He threw out his hand quickly, stopping the door from closing entirely.

 

“Miss Mabel Pines, is it?” He asked her, looking right into her eyes. “Special Agent Shaw - please, it’s very important I speak with you regarding your brother’s whereabouts. It’s a matter of national security.”

 

Her heart was pounding all of a sudden - why the hell were the FBI here in San Francisco? She hadn’t done anything illegal!

 

“I don’t know where Dipper is,” she shook her head.

 

“Miss Pines, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want to  _ talk _ to you,” Agent Shaw tried again. “If you truly have no idea where he is, then you won’t have any problem just talking to me.”

 

Mabel frowned at that. This guy was one of the people trying to arrest or even  _ kill _ her brother - the person who had been most important to her since before they were even born. Did he seriously believe she wouldn’t have any problem talking to him? Like he could just come into her apartment for tea and cookies, and they could do each other’s hair and play Mario Kart?!

 

“I don’t know where he is,” she repeated. “I’m telling you the truth, so please just leave me alone.”

 

“Miss Pines-” he began to push on the door again, but was cut off:

 

“You need a warrant,” Pacifica had come up behind Mabel, and was glaring daggers at Agent Shaw. “You can’t just barge in here without a search warrant. We haven’t broken any laws, so you have no right.”

 

The agent fumbled a bit to get his badge out again, but Pacifica kept going:

 

“You think your badge is gonna scare me into letting you into our home without a warrant? Do you know who I am? Do you  _ really _ think the government is scary to someone who met the Queen of England when she was four years old?!”

 

“I just need to-”

 

“To what, ‘talk’ to us? Mabel has made it  _ very clear _ that we don’t want anything to  _ do _ with you! We don’t know where Dipper and Norman are, we have no contact with them, and you need to leave _ right now _ .”

 

Mabel looked back and forth from Pacifica to Agent Shaw. They were both glaring now, and in her rage, tiny Pacifica almost seemed fifty feet tall. She refused to back down, and for a minute - one horrible minute - the brunette was afraid the agent would hurt her girlfriend.

 

But then, he took a step back and straightened his tie.

 

“I… see…” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You really have no idea where they are?”

 

“Do you think if we knew, we’d be sitting around here waiting for you assholes to show up and interrogate us?” Pacifica hissed. Mabel placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her down - there was no need to piss the guy off.

 

“...if anything changes...” Agent Shaw began.

 

“We’ll let you know!” Mabel spoke quickly, before Pacifica could piss the guy off even more. It was a total lie, of course, but she didn’t know if FBI agents carried guns, and she definitely did not want to find out. “Bye, Agent Shaw!”

 

“...yes. Good bye. For now. Miss Pines, Miss Northwest.”

 

Pacifica pulled away from Mabel and slammed the door in his face, then whirled around to face her girlfriend, the ends of her hair whipping her chin.

 

“What the fuck was that about?! What, are we on some FBI watchlist now just because you shared the womb with-”

 

Mabel placed a finger on her girlfriend’s lips to shush her, and shook her head, brown eyes wide.

 

If there was one thing that being related to Dipper had taught her, it was that one never knew who might be listening.

 

***

 

_ SOMEWHERE IN NEBRASKA? OR MAYBE KANSAS? _

 

Dipper didn’t consider himself superstitious - while he was prone to believing in cryptids and the paranormal (because he’d seen too many  _ things _ not to), black cats and walking under ladders and breaking mirrors didn’t bother him. 

 

But currently, as if to pass time, he was wishing on stars as they drove down this dark, empty road. 

 

(It looked the same as every other road they’d been on.)

 

He wished they had more money. Their cash was beginning to dwindle, even though they did their best to only spend it on necessities and on the cheapest of motels. He wished he knew what Norman was thinking. His boyfriend was currently leaning his head against the window with his eyes closed, though Dipper knew for a fact he wasn’t really asleep. He wished they’d find a motel soon - it was getting late, after all.

 

He wished - not for the first time - that none of this had ever happened. Or at least that they’d have some breakthrough or something that would make this trip worth it. Undeniable proof of aliens that would prove their innocence, perhaps. He didn’t care. He just wanted to go  _ home _ .

 

“Come on, stars,” he whispered, knowing full well nothing would come of this. “Throw me a bone here. For him, if nothing else...”

 

As if in response, the van suddenly jerked and twitched to a stop.

 

“Wh-what was that?” From his side, Norman sounded startled by the sudden, rough stop in the middle of the road. At least they were in the middle of nowhere and no one would hit them.

 

Dipper groaned, when he realised what the problem was, “Shit...”

 

“What?” Norman looked worried. “What is it?”

 

“We’re out of gas,” he buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to see Norman’s reaction. He didn’t want to see him upset at this stupid amateur mistake. 

 

“You’re shitting me,” the medium deadpanned.

 

“No. No, I’m not,” he groaned again. “God, how could I have been so  _ stupid _ ?!”

 

“Dipper, you’re not-”

 

“Yes I am!” He snapped. “I  _ knew _ this stupid van had shitty gas mileage, I  _ knew _ I should have stopped at that last gas station! Now we just have to sit here all night!? I mean, what, are we gonna call AAA? Tell them the wanted terrorists with the forty-thousand-dollar bounty on their heads need gas and a lift to the nearest motel!?”

 

“You don’t need to yell…” Norman muttered softly, looking out the window again.

 

Dipper suddenly felt like his heart was falling into his stomach and being digested by acid. This wasn’t Norman’s fault -  _ none _ of this was Norman’s fault - and he should have been  _ apologising _ to him, not yelling. His mind was racing. He had to say something to make it better, he had to figure out a plan. The last gas station they’d passed was, what, two miles away? Three? Maybe if he walked he could make it up to Norman-

 

The passenger door of the van opened. 

 

Dipper snapped his head back up just in time to see Norman unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the van.

 

“Shit…” he whispered to himself,  really feeling nauseous now. The younger man was probably mad at him, trying to get away from his stupid, childish outburst. Dipper’s guilty stomach was doing flip flops, trying to jump up into his throat.

 

He opened his door and didn’t even close it behind him as he ran over to where Norman stood, a few feet away on the side of the road.

 

“I’m sorry, okay?”

 

“What?” The medium looked up at him, silvery moonlight reflecting off the curve of his cheeks and making him look even paler.

 

“This is all my fault,” Dipper continued. “I should have just owned up to my mistake instead of yelling and making you feel like shit about it - I’m so, so,  _ so _ sorry!”

 

“What?” Norman repeated. He looked more confused than angry. “Dipper, I was just getting out to ask for directions to the nearest gas station. There was a ghost. I’m not upset.”

 

“You’re… not?” He blinked. 

 

“The window doesn’t roll down on my side of the van, remember? I had to get out of the van.” 

 

“But,” the older man continued, “it was all my fault…”

 

“It’s no one’s fault,” Norman shivered a little. They were no longer in a place with snow, but the night air was still brisk and frosty. 

 

“I don’t just mean the gas thing,” he started pacing back and forth. “I mean this whole damn trip - the government being after us and trying to find aliens and the money running out because I couldn’t even keep a job like a normal person…” His pacing reached the van and he leaned his back against it, letting out a shaky sigh so that his breath made a little cloud in the winter’s air. “It’s all my fault…”

 

“It’s… it’s not…” Norman bit his lip, his voice trailed off. 

 

Did he agree? Is that why he didn’t finish his sentence? He thought this was all his boyfriend’s fault too, he was just too polite to say that - Dipper was almost  _ sure _ of it. He clenched his eyes shut.

 

Then, he felt a thin, cold hand slip into one of his.

 

When he opened his eyes, Norman was right in front of him, so close Dipper could see his eyelashes.

 

“You can’t blame yourself for everything like that,” the medium said softly, pressing their bodies close together more for warmth than out of any desire for romance. Dipper wrapped his arms around him anyway. He was so warm compared to the cold metal of the van. 

 

“Then who can I blame?”

 

“No one? The FBI? I don’t know,” the younger man bit his lip again, “but not yourself. So we have to spend the night in the van. At least it saves us some money…”

 

Dipper saw what Norman was trying to do. He  _ knew _ neither of them was exactly optimistic about, well, any of this, but he appreciated the effort.

 

“You know,” he tried for a small smile, “when we do find aliens, I’m punching them in the face for doing this to us.”

 

“‘When’?” Norman shivered a little, and Dipper held him a little tighter instead of answering. 

 

He let his head fall back, looking up at the night sky. It was  _ spectacularly _ starry, so different from what they usually saw back in New York (which wasn’t much). There were thousands upon thousands of glimmering white pinpricks, and Dipper could very clearly see the pale path of the Milky Way.

 

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

 

The tiny inquiry caught him by surprise, and all Dipper could think to say was, “huh?”

 

“The stars - that’s what you were looking at, right?” Norman asked. “Or were you looking for your aliens?”

 

Not looking away from the sky - his eyes easily found his namesake constellation - he said, “yeah… I was… yeah.”

 

Looking up into the vastness of space like this, it was almost easy to forget all their problems here on Earth. It was almost easy to forget the FBI was looking for them, to forget their money was slowly dwindling, to forget the van was out of gas. Dipper had always liked that about stars. It was nice to stop worrying for once in his normally-worrisome life, and to think about how small his problems were in comparison to these giant, burning balls of gas.

 

“You know,” he spoke softly, almost reverently, “this is the closest I ever get to seeing what you see.”

 

“I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?” Norman sounded baffled, and Dipper snapped his head back down to look at his boyfriend instead of the sky. Not that it mattered - he could still see the constellations reflected in the vastness of those incredibly blue eyes. 

 

(It was still beautiful.)

 

“Half those stars are ghosts, you know,” he said.

 

“I… what?” the medium furrowed his heavy brows. “Is this some New Age thing?”

 

“It’s science, you asshole,” Dipper couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Look up - half of those stars are billions of light years away, a distance we can’t even begin to comprehend. By the time we see that light, the source of it has probably been dead and gone for millennia. So a lot of those stars are dead, right? But we can still see them. They’re ghosts.”

 

Norman returned his smirk, and replied, “Way to kill the mood, Dip.”

 

“Did we have a mood?” the older man raised an eyebrow. 

 

His boyfriend shrugged, but didn’t reply. He just kept staring at Dipper with those eyes full of stars. Full of ghosts.

 

It didn’t take much at all for Dipper to lean forward, close the small distance between them, and kiss him under the arm of the Milky Way.

 

Maybe in the morning things would be alright. Maybe not. But this, right here, was more than alright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norman just wants to go home already.


	9. Cancer

_?????????? _

 

It had started with one sentence. One stupid sentence:

 

“Dipper, we can’t live off gas station food forever, and if we don’t eat at a real restaurant soon I swear I will throw up all over this van.”

 

He was 99% sure Norman had been kidding. He’d been smirking, after all. But the one per cent of him that was unsure had driven them to the closest diner, anyway.

 

Not that Dipper could even focus on the food. His mind was racing too much, his train of thought speeding back and forth between two things.

 

First, he’d counted up their money this morning after they finally got gas into the van. They only had $243 left. That wasn’t going to get them much further, and Dipper had to figure out what the hell to do about it. He couldn’t stress Norman out anymore. He just couldn’t.

 

Second, the night before, in a moment of stark honesty, he’d said “when”.  _ When _ he found aliens, not if - why had he said that? Did he still even want to find them? The government had turned him off to the idea at first, but now he wasn’t so sure. Wouldn’t giving up the search be exactly what they wanted? Or would it be the smart thing to do, for Norman’s sake? He didn’t want to put him into anymore danger, after all. 

 

He just wished he knew, on both counts, the right thing to do.

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

That voice he’d always adored snapped him out of these thoughts, and Dipper looked up to face him. Even with the exhaustion on his face from a poor night’s sleep, and a day’s worth of stubble since he hadn’t been able to shave in the van, Norman still looked adorable with his beanie and sweater on.

 

Dipper wiped some egg out of the patch of hair on his chin, and shrugged.

 

“I don’t know,” he replied, only half-honestly. “Trying to figure out where we’re going after this.”

 

“I thought the plan was just to keep driving? Stay one step ahead of the F- I mean, um… the you-know-what?”

 

How far were they really going to get with $243, Dipper wondered. He shook his head.

 

“You know I’d never let them catch you…”

 

“...I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming up,” Norman deadpanned.

 

“ _ But , _ ” Dipper looked him in the eyes, “why are they chasing us in the first place?”

 

At first, the younger man didn’t reply. He just stared at his boyfriend with an unreadable expression, pursing his lips. Then, he sighed.

 

“Where are you going with this?”

 

“If aliens really aren’t real-”

 

“Oh, god…”

 

“-then why do  _ they _ want to silence us so badly?”

 

Norman reached across the table and grabbed one of his hands, looking into his eyes.

 

“Dipper,” he began. “That’s… kinda what…”

 

His voice trailed off. But both of them knew what he had been about to say. That kind of thinking had been what got them wanted in the first place.

 

“I’m scared, too,” Dipper confessed, trying to keep his voice down so the other patrons of the diner didn’t hear them. “But what are we gonna do? Let them win? They don’t want us to figure something out. What is it they’re hiding? Why don’t they want us to know? If we have to be on the run  _ anyway _ , then… then we should go somewhere with answers.”

 

“Like where?” the medium frowned. “We can’t go back to Montauk.”

 

“Like  _ Roswell _ .”

 

It was the first location that had popped into Dipper’s head, but now that he had blurted it out, it did make a lot of sense. If anywhere might have answers about aliens, the place where they’d crashed in the forties would be it. 

 

At least it gave them a destination, if nothing else. A goal. Something to keep going for. After all, it was easier to drive toward something potentially useful than away from something awful.

 

But Norman didn’t look convinced.

 

“You can’t be serious,” he said.

 

“Do you have any better ideas?”

 

The medium furrowed his brow thoughtfully. Then, his shoulders drooped, and he was forced to admit, “No…”

 

“Hey,” Dipper spoke gently, squeezing his hand, “if there’s nothing there, then there’s nothing there. But it doesn’t hurt to try. You’re the one who taught me that.”

 

The waiter brought their bill before Norman could reply. It came to just over twenty dollars.

 

Dipper really hoped the remaining $222 would get them to New Mexico. He was counting on this being the big breakthrough they needed.

 

***

 

Norman was positive that Dipper wasn’t telling him everything. His boyfriend had always worn his emotions on his face, and normally he loved that about Dipper, but the constant worried melancholy today was beginning to sting. And what had that whole conversation about Roswell been about? Dipper couldn’t have been serious…

 

... _ could _ he?

 

He didn’t know what to do to even begin to make Dipper feel better. How could he, if the older man wouldn’t even tell him what was wrong? 

 

On their way out of the diner, back out to the parking lot, they stopped in the diner’s gift shop. If nothing else, Norman at least hoped it would be a distraction from the gnawing sense of growing worry in the pit of his stomach.

 

The gift shop was full of mostly-useless kitsch, exactly the kind of Americana that Norman had expected - collectible spoons, Christmas ornaments, snowglobes, t-shirts decorated with old ladies making snarky comments, playing cards with slightly-risqué images on their backs, brightly coloured jars of pickled  _ everything _ . 

 

It was hard to believe anyone would buy any of it. It was even harder to believe people would give any of it to friends and family as gifts. But he supposed he couldn’t judge, considering some of the movies he’d willingly spent money on.

 

He shot a look over to Dipper, half-hoping he’d grab one of the novelty items from the shelves and start a snark war with Norman until they were both gripping at each other and laughing so hard that tears rained down their cheeks onto the linoleum floor.

 

Of course, that wasn’t what happened. Dipper was staring numbly at a rack of fake license plates with names on them, running his thumb over the “M” of a license plate that said “Mabel”.

 

Norman wished Dipper would just _ talk _ to him. Logically, he understood his boyfriend was just trying not to worry him, but it was beginning to feel like Dipper didn’t feel like he  _ could _ talk to him. That was just making him worry even more. 

 

He didn’t even know how to begin that conversation, especially not here in some diner gift shop in some state in the middle of the country. Sighing, the medium looked over to the cash register, whose attendant wasn’t exactly overflowing with excitement at her potential customers. She shot them a glare over the top of the newspaper she was reading - it seemed that at least in these small towns, people still read newspapers. Maybe if they’d moved here after college, they wouldn’t be in this mess. 

 

He shook his head - where had  _ that _ thought come from? - and squinted to try and catch the title of the newspaper. Maybe it’d at least let him know what state they were in. After a few seconds, however, he was disappointed to find it only had a generic title like “The Examiner” or “The Explorer” - he couldn’t really tell which.

 

Suddenly, his blood ran cold.

 

The front page of the paper was running a story with a very blurry photo, from a surveillance camera, of the building in Montauk. There, in the photo, were two familiar bodies. Norman and Dipper.

 

The medium gasped and grabbed Dipper’s sleeve.

 

“Dipper,” he whispered, “we need to go.”

 

“Why?” Dipper, oblivious to the impending danger, turned to face him and spoke too loudly. They definitely had counter-girl’s attention now.

 

“We need to go  _ now _ . And quietly,” Norman kept his voice low, tried to talk without moving his mouth very much, “before the girl behind the counter recognises that we’re the terrorists she’s reading about.”

 

As if on cue, Dipper and the girl behind the counter looked up at the exact same time. Norman watched their eyes lock in one horrible moment of recognition. They’d been found out.

 

They were done for, he was sure of it.

 

Not even thinking about what he was doing, the medium grabbed Dipper’s hand and bolted for the door. He had to get them out of here - he had to get  _ Dipper _ out of here!

 

“D-don’t move!” The girl called out, as if that were really going to stop them. She sounded terrified, and if he hadn’t been so scared himself, Norman would have felt bad for her. She was probably still in high school, or just out of it. She didn’t understand what was happening any more than they did.

 

They skidded to a stop in front of the glass door, and Dipper reached out to open it. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it a bit, but still, it held tight. Somehow, the girl behind the counter had locked them in. There must have been a switch or something behind the counter. 

 

They were so close to escaping. Norman could  _ see _ their van out in the parking lot. His heart fell into his stomach. 

 

Was this really it for them?

 

“The- the cops are on their way, so d-don’t try anything!” The girl was cowering behind her counter, just barely peeking over the edge of it. 

 

“Look,” Norman began, “we don’t want to hurt y-”

 

“Open the doors, damn it!”

 

He sighed. He understood Dipper was upset, but yelling and pounding his fists on the door was not going to make this poor, terrified girl any more likely to listen to them.

 

“Dip-” he began. 

 

His boyfriend suddenly turned around and grabbed the rack of fake license plates. The girl yelped and ducked completely behind the counter, and Norman gasped out:

 

“D-Dipper what do you think you’re  _ doing _ ?!”

 

“Getting us out of here,” the older man frowned. “There are answers out there still, and we’re  gonna find them, Norman. I’m not letting you get arrested. You… you trust me, don’t you?”

 

The look in those brown eyes was too much. It had always been too much. The medium couldn’t help but nod. He bit back his doubts, he knew he had to just put his faith in whatever Dipper was planning, and they’d get out of here. 

 

This  _ wouldn’t _ be the end of their journey. Not in some crappy diner in the middle of nowhere. If Dipper wasn’t prepared to accept that ending, then neither would Norman.

 

Without warning, Dipper lifted the rack of license plates - with considerable effort - and  _ threw _ it at the door, which shattered completely. A scream sounded out from somewhere else in the gift shop. Neither man turned to look at the screamer.

 

Norman threw his arms up to shield his face from any glass that came at them. Before he could really even process what was happening, he felt himself being pulled through the hole that had been made, felt a sting on his cheek where a hanging piece of what had once been the door tried to grab him. He barely noticed it, barely paid mind to any of it. He just let his boyfriend pull him towards the van and shove him (rather roughly, though he was more than willing to forgive that given the circumstances) into the passenger side before the local police showed up at the diner.

 

They drove in silence for at least seven or eight minutes, before Norman’s pulse calmed down, and he finally felt safe speaking:

 

“Wasn’t it my turn to drive?”

 

Dipper slammed on the breaks and the van halted to a rough stop, causing the medium to lurch forward. He could already feel bruises forming from where he’d been shoved into the van, and the sudden stop was  _ not _ helping them.

 

“ _ Jesus _ , Dipper, what-”

 

“It’s not funny!” The older man screamed.

 

Norman shrank back a little into his seat. His boyfriend was panting, his face red, his knuckles stony white and trembling a little as he gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly. There was a tiny cut on one of his knuckles, and the blood trickled down the side of his hand. A matching gash shimmered like a small ruby just under his right eye.

 

“It’s not funny,” he repeated, his voice almost shaking.

 

Suddenly, Norman felt like the worst person in the world. Dipper had just saved his life, and was clearly still shaken up over that, and what had he done in return? He’d  _ joked _ about it! Tried to lighten the mood - as if it could be lightened! 

 

He clenched his hands into little fists, feeling the pain of his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. How could he have said something so stupid?

 

“I…” he began weakly, not sure how he could salvage this, “I’m sorry, Dipper. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

 

The older boy turned to him, and Norman watched the expression in those warm brown eyes he loved so much change from anger and fear to… sadness? Was that what it was?

 

(Was he upset that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with someone who made fun of him when he just needed someone to be there for him? Norman wasn’t sure, and it was beginning to make his stomach hurt. He prayed for the seat of the van to swallow him up whole so he didn’t have to see that pain in Dipper’s eyes. So he didn’t have to know it was his fault.)

 

“You’re bleeding…” Dipper spoke gently, reaching out to brush his cheek. It stung, and his fingers came back red with blood.

 

Norman looked away. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved such gentleness.

 

“It doesn’t hurt,” he lied.

 

“Hold on,” Dipper pulled the van over to the side of the road, then reached into the glove compartment to pull out one of the three first aid kits he kept stashed around the van.

 

(“It never hurts to be prepared,” he had once told Norman.)

 

“You really don’t need to do that, Dip…”

 

“Yes, I do,” the older man replied stubbornly. “This is all my fault.”

 

That gave the medium pause, pause enough for Dipper to start wiping off his face with an antiseptic wipe.

 

That couldn’t be right...  _ could _ it?

 

“H-how is it your fault?” he asked quietly. He still couldn’t quite bear to look into those warm, brown eyes. 

 

“We should have just left when you told me to. I wouldn’t have had to break the door. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I’d just  _ listened _ to you…”

 

Something in his voice made Norman’s heart twist up even more, and despite himself, he snapped his head back up to look Dipper in the eyes. 

 

“No, no, come on, Dip. Don’t blame yourself for this - you did what you had to do to get us out of there!” He frowned, the guilt in his heart growing and growing like a swirling black hole. “You saved us from getting arrested. And I reacted by- by making some  _ stupid joke _ !”

 

For a moment - for one, horrible, doubt filled moment - Dipper just  _ stared _ at him. Norman didn’t know what he was going to say.

 

But then he sighed, placed a band-aid on the younger man’s face, and murmured softly:

 

“I love your stupid jokes…”

 

“But… you…”

 

“I shouldn’t have yelled. That wasn’t fair,” he leaned over and pecked Norman’s lips. “Forgive me?”

 

“Of course I do,” the younger man didn’t even think about his response. Of course he forgave Dipper. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

 

His boyfriend leaned in to kiss him again, for more than just a split second this time. Norman let him, without question.

 

Anything to distract himself from that black hole of guilt that he could still feel swirling in his chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd do a story involving alien conspiracies without mentioning Roswell, did you?


	10. Leo

_???????? _

 

Norman had no idea where he was. Worse, he had no idea where  _ Dipper  _ was - he was completely alone, wherever this place was. 

 

It wasn’t quite a forest. It was more like a grove, if anything. Or at least it had been, once.

 

But now everything was charred and blackened, as if it had been hit by fire.

 

“Or by lightning,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke behind him, reading his thoughts.

 

Norman whirled to face the voice, but he couldn’t find its source. It still looked like he was all alone in…  _ wherever _ this was. Where had he heard that voice before? He couldn’t place it.

 

“Who are you?” He asked, frowning. “Where is this?”

 

“You don’t remember?” The voice still sounded as if it were just behind him, but when Norman turned to face the speaker, he still saw nothing. “You don’t remember your own Dreamscape?”

 

“My  _ what _ ?” His frown deepened.

 

“You came here once. Long ago. With the girl.”

 

Recognition flooded over him in waves. He  _ had _ been here once. This was where Aggie had taken him just before she’d moved on to the other side.

 

“What… what happened to this place?” He whispered. He didn’t know why he was whispering.

 

The voice chuckled. “Does your little boyfriend really think the answers are in Roswell? You know just as well as I do that’s a pretty  _ bad _ idea, don’t you? Or… is it a good idea? I always get those two mixed up!”

 

“What,” Norman repeated, glaring, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was glaring at, “happened to this place?”

 

“... _ you _ did.”

 

His eyebrows flew up. No, that couldn’t be true! The voice continued unperturbed:

 

“Or rather… you will. If you go to Roswell. You’re not going to find aliens there, you know. And if you’re still looking for them, you’re looking for the wrong thing anyway!”

 

“I didn’t do this,” Norman protested. “I- I wouldn’t…”

 

“He’ll find you, you know,” the voice laughed even more. “Be careful looking for the truth - you just might to find it!”

 

“‘He’? Who is ‘he’?” The medium could feel a growing sense of dread rising up in his stomach.

 

“Who do you think is running this dog and pony show, hm? Aliens? The government?  _ Pawns _ , the whole lot of them.  _ His _ pawns.”

 

“You’re not answering my question. Who is ‘he’?”

 

“...we’ll see when you get there, won’t we?”

 

***

 

_ NEW MEXICO. SOMEWHERE ON I-40 WEST _ . 

 

The medium awoke with a gasp. Dipper looked over, watched him groggily lift his head off the window of the van, where he’d dozed off an hour earlier. Norman hadn’t been sleeping well this whole trip, Dipper had noticed.

 

“You okay?” he asked his boyfriend gently, watching out of the corner of his eye as Norman ran a hand through the dark spikes of his hair.

 

“Y-yeah,” the younger man responded. 

 

Dipper didn’t quite believe him, but he didn’t push it. Not after how he’d acted the other day. Not after the almost-scared  _ look _ in Norman’s eyes when Dipper had snapped under stress. Norman deserved better than that. Better than  _ him _ .

 

“You fell asleep,” he said, tamely. Better to be tame than to make any of his worse on Norman, after all.

 

“Yeah, I… I noticed,” Norman twisted his head to stretch out his neck, earning a few  _ crk-crk _ noises from this action. “Where are we?”

 

“As of, like, five minutes ago? New Mexico,” Dipper forced a beaming grin. “We’ll be in Roswell by lunchtime. We should eat at their McDonald’s - I heard it’s shaped like a UFO.”

 

“This isn’t a vacation, Dipper,” the younger man muttered, sounding almost…  _ irritated _ with that possibility.

 

“I’ll get you a cookie off the dollar menu…”

 

“Mm.”

 

“...and then we can go check out the Foster Ranch where the 1947 crash happened…”

 

“Dipper… what are you hoping to find there?” Norman wasn’t looking at him, instead staring at the barren scenery out of the window. It didn’t snow this far south, but there weren’t many living plants either.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but it doesn’t hurt to look, does it? I thought you were on board with this.”

 

For just a second, those big blue eyes clenched shut. “The government is still looking for us and you want to- what, go to McDonald’s and inspect some farm for debris from sixty years ago?”

 

Dipper was taken aback. He pushed down his first reply - he wasn’t going to yell at Norman, not again - and tried to gather his thoughts. Something was seriously bothering Norman.

 

“You… don’t want to go to Roswell?” 

 

“I don’t know,” the medium shrugged noncommittally. 

 

“Worried about what we might find?”

 

“I’m worried about what might find  _ us _ ,” he finally turned to face Dipper. “We’re wanted criminals, Dipper. That girl yesterday was  _ afraid _ of us. And if we go to Roswell… I don’t know, I just… I have a really bad feeling about it.”

 

“You mean like a hunch?”

 

“Y-yeah… something like that.”

 

“That’s a pretty extreme hunch,” Dipper frowned. Norman wasn’t telling him the full story, he was sure of it.

 

“...I seem to recall you having some pretty extreme hunches,” the medium retreated further into himself, hiding behind sass and sarcasm. It wasn’t safe to be afraid, but it was safe to sass Dipper.

 

“I never have,” Dipper protested, forcing another grin.

 

Norman responded with a forced smile of his own. The older man could tell it was fake. It didn’t ease his guilt. His boyfriend had some serious apprehensions about Roswell. What could he do to make them better?

 

“Do you want me to turn the van around? Go somewhere else? Florida, maybe?”

 

For just a split second, it looked as if the medium was considering it. Then, he shook his head. 

 

“No. It’s fine. If… if you still think it’s a good idea, then we’ll go. But… be careful? I don’t know, I just… something isn’t  _ right _ about this.”

 

Dipper hated himself for being relieved at that.

 

“I’ll protect you from the aliens, Norm.”

 

“It’s not aliens I’m worried about.”

 

“I’ll protect you from the government, too,” he said gently. “You know that, right?”

 

“...who’s going to protect  _ you _ ?”

 

He didn’t have an answer to that.

 

***

 

_ SAN FRANCISCO _

 

It was shortly after noon when Mabel got the call. She was out getting food in the Mission District, and had to duck out of the restaurant to answer her cell - she was growing more and more wary, lately, of who might be listening in.

 

(“You’re turning into your brother,” Pacifica had told her. As if Pacifica wasn’t just as paranoid, watching the news every damn hour of the day.)

 

“Hello?” she answered the call as soon as she was sure no one could eavesdrop.

 

“Hey, Mabel,” Dipper replied on the other end. A simple greeting, as if everything was okay.

 

“You’re okay! Di-” she started, then stopped herself. This paranoia was a foreign sensation for her. She didn’t like the way it made her feel, almost sick. “Where are you two? Wait, no, don’t answer that, I don’t know if I wanna know.”

 

“New Mexico…” he responded. _ Damn it, Dipper _ . “Mabel, are you okay?”

 

“You were on the news yesterday…”

 

“You don’t watch the news.”

 

“Paz does,” she pouted a little, though her brother couldn’t see it. “‘Destruction of public property’, Dip? What were you  _ thinking _ ?”

 

“The- the diner yesterday?” She could hear the frown in his voice. “That was in the news?”

 

“No, the news  _ never _ reports on the nation’s most wanted domestic terrorists,” Mabel sighed. “What were you thinking? No, wait- don’t tell me. Wait,  _ do _ tell me! No, don’t, I- I don’t know.”

 

“...Mabel?”

 

“Can cell phone calls be bugged?” She blurted it out before she could stop herself.

 

“Wait,  _ what ? _ ” Dipper did not sound happy about that. “You think the government is- oh god, Mabel, what happened?”

 

“They’re looking everywhere for you…”

 

“Everywhere as in… as in San Francisco everywhere?” 

 

“An FBI agent showed up at the apartment the other day,” she confessed. “We didn’t let him in - Pacifica yelled at him because he didn’t have a search warrant. I don’t think he liked that. We don’t know if he’s gonna come back, or…”

 

“They- they showed up at your apartment?!” Dipper exclaimed. “But-! This has nothing to do with you two! Those  _ fucks _ !”

 

“Don’t be mad-” she started, but he cut her off:

 

“I’m not mad at you, Mabel. I just-  _ shit _ ! I can’t believe this!”

 

“Dipper, calm down,” she frowned. The last thing she’d wanted was to upset him, but he had the right to know.

 

“I am calm!” He was yelling in a way that was definitely  _ not _ calm. “God, if they’re going after you now, who  _ knows _ where else they’ve looked?! The Shack? Mom and Dad? Norman’s family?!”

 

“I’ll check, okay?” Mabel forced her voice to sound reassuring. She could do that. She could be reassuring and helpful. It was all she had, right now.  “I’ll call Mom, and Grunkle Stan, and Courtney, and Sandra Babcock - don’t worry about any of that, alright? Leave it all to Mabel!”

 

“You don’t have to do that - it has nothing to do with you.”

 

“Hey, what are sisters for?” 

 

He sighed. “Fine. But don’t tell them you’ve heard from us.”

 

“What, you think I’m an idiot?” Mabel snorted. “Call me tomorrow, alright?”

 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I will.”

 

“And be safe in New Mexico. Don’t do anything that’ll get you two into any more trouble - I don’t want to come home and see on the news you broke into Area 51 or something.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dipper said flippantly.

 

“Promise me, Dip.”

 

He hung up. Only then did Mabel let the fake smile fade from her face. 

 

She looked back towards the restaurant. Suddenly, she wasn’t very hungry anymore.

 

***

 

_ MANHATTAN _

 

Linda Cortile had only been halfway through putting up the Christmas decorations in her apartment when the door knocked. She hadn’t been expecting company, but she wasn’t at all surprised when she saw who it was.

 

“Agent Collins,” she greeted the man in the dark suit. He smiled at her. He wasn’t a bad looking man when he smiled like that, and she found herself blushing as she gestured for him and his two colleagues - she didn’t recognise them, but they were both very tall and very bald - to come in.

 

“Linda,” Collins sat right down on her couch as if he owned the place, kicking his feet up onto her coffee table. The other two men did not sit, they merely stood by the door.

 

A bit shy all of a sudden, she sat down timidly on the other end of the couch, tucking some of her hair behind her ears, waiting for him to state why he was here.

 

When he’d first approached her not too long ago, to discuss her experiences with abductions, he’d cut right to the point. Why wasn’t he talking now?

 

“I… wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” she admitted, trying to pry gently. Why was he here?

 

“I’ve been busy,” he turned that too-charming smile onto her. “Miss me?”

 

“Busy…” she frowned. “I… I don’t understand.”

 

“Well, you see, Linda,” he gestured to his suit, “they don’t pay me just to look good in a suit.”

 

“No, I mean- Dipper and Norman,” she said. “You said to tell them about the abductions - you said they could help me. You didn’t say they would get hurt.”

 

“You know what your problem is, Linda?” Collins wouldn’t stop smiling, and suddenly Linda found it infuriating rather than handsome. “You have too much sympathy for the devil.  Like the song - you’ve heard it, haven’t you?”

 

“They’re nice boys,” she continued, and then found she couldn’t stop. “They didn’t do anything wrong - they did what you told me to tell them to do - and you’re hunting them down like  _ animals _ ! I just don’t understand! Isn’t this what you wanted them to do? Why are they criminals for it?”

 

He laughed. He actually  _ laughed _ at her.

 

“Oh, Linda. Linda, Linda, Linda,” he reached out, cupped her cheeks with both hands, the way a lover might. 

 

She hated herself for being secretly thrilled - it had been so long since someone had touched her like this. She hated Agent Collins in that moment, and she hated that if he kissed her, she knew she’d let him.

 

“I j-just want to understand,” she protested weakly.

 

“There is so much,” he replied, “you’ll never understand about my plan.”

 

And then, with a terrifying quickness, he jerked his hands to the right with seemingly inhuman strength, twisting her head painfully until her vertebrae snapped audibly.

 

Her crumpled, lifeless body tumbled off the couch onto the floor, and Collins laughed even harder, before turning to one of his agents, who had the audacity to look taken aback at what he had just done.

 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he rolled his eyes. “You knew what you were getting into when you signed onto this project. Clean it up.”

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Collins groaned. How many necks did he have to snap for just a moment of peaceful silence around here?

 

“Agent Shaw,” he answered the call, “for your sake, you’d better have good news for me.”

 

“Pines and Babcock have been spotted,” Agent Shaw replied from - where was he now? Still on the west coast? The last Collins had heard from him, his underling was in California, waiting to see if Dipper was going to show up and hide out at his sister’s apartment. (Collins knew Dipper wasn’t that stupid, of course, but it kept Shaw out of his way.)

 

“Shaw, if this is another ‘they were apprehended in a restaurant and broke out’ deal, then you’re wasting everyone’s time.”

 

“The suspects haven’t been apprehended yet - I was waiting on your response.”

 

“Well?” Collins rose from the couch, brushing some tinsel off of his pant leg. “Where are they?”

 

“New Mexico. We have reason to believe they’re going to Roswell.”

 

Despite himself, Agent Collins could feel his lips curling up into a grin. Perhaps Dipper was more stupid than he’d assumed - didn’t the Pines boy realise he’d just made their job  _ so much easier _ ?

 

“Excellent,” he replied. “I’ll be at the Facility as soon as possible. Let them have their fun in Roswell, but as soon as you get the call - take them down.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mabel was out without Pacifica because she was doing Christmas shopping. It is December now after all!


	11. Virgo

_ ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO _

 

“Run!”

 

Dipper grabbed Norman by the wrist and pulled him into the run. The owner of the Foster Ranch - where that infamous UFO had crashed in 1947 - had  _ not _ been too happy when the pair showed up on his property, and was currently chasing them off of it, brandishing a rake as if it were a weapon:

 

“Damn kids and their damn alien tourism! This is my  _ home _ , damn it! This is private property!”

 

Dipper didn’t know whether to laugh or feel stupid. One one hand, this had been a spectacularly ill thought-out plan. On the other hand, it was kind of nice to just be thought of as annoying tourists instead of dangerous terrorists.

 

They sprinted until they were at the public road that lead to the ranch, and Norman suddenly wheezed, grabbing at Dipper’s sleeve.

 

“W-wait,” he choked out. “Can we stop running for a second?”

 

“Yeah,” Dipper nodded, releasing his wrist and nearly doubling over with how hard he was panting. He took a few moments to catch his breath before asking his boyfriend, “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” Norman panted, sinking to his knees. “I just… need to sit down. Where’d we park the van?”

 

“Um,” the older man stood up, looking around until he realised, “it’s, uh… it’s parked on the other road.”

 

The medium looked up at Dipper, and then groaned. He didn’t even respond verbally. He just  _ groaned _ , holding up his arm as if in silent plea for his boyfriend to help him up.

 

The older man couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he pulled him up. This situation was so ridiculous.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “That was a stupid idea, even for me. We should have just paid the ten bucks to get into the UFO museum…”

 

(He didn’t want to tell Norman that even paying ten dollars was considered a strain now.)

 

“There’s still time,” the medium muttered, letting Dipper lead him back to where the van was parked. His voice was emotionless.

 

Just as it had been since the day before.

 

Dipper sighed, trying whatever he could to lighten the mood:

 

“We could make a date of it. It wouldn’t be the worst date we’ve ever had. Remember the time I tried to take you ice skating?”

 

He’d hoped Norman would reply with something like “yeah, or the time with the zombies” or “it doesn’t top the night at the opera”, but the younger man didn’t say anything. He just looked straight ahead in grim silence.

 

Dipper sighed again. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at  _ all _ . Roswell was the alien capital of the world - there had to be answers here. There  _ had _ to be! He had to find answers, he had to do something to make this whole stupid road trip worth it, because it clearly was taking its toll on Norman, and Dipper couldn’t let him suffer for nothing. There had to be  _ something _ !

 

The two walked in silence until they returned to the van, which, in addition to being in severe need of a wash, had a strange man leaning on it.

 

He looked to be in his forties or fifties, and had clearly spent most of his life outdoors in the New Mexico sun, judging by the leathery wrinkles in his skin. He took a long draw of his cigarette, before speaking in a gravelly voice:

 

“He didn’t like you on his property, did he?”

 

Dipper and Norman exchanged looks of confusion. Who  was this guy?

 

“I’m sorry,” Dipper responded, “but who are you?”   
  


The man took another puff of his cigarette, and replied, “the name’s Travis. An’ if it’s aliens you’re looking for… I’m your guy.”

 

“I-  _ what _ ?”

 

“That’s why you’re here, ain’t it?” Travis - if that was really this guy’s name - grinned at him, his teeth all yellow from years of cigarettes. “To learn about aliens. They took my kid, y’know. They took my wife. I’ve got proof, you know - I have the photos of that stupid implant. All you gotta do is ask.”

 

Dipper ignored the small part of his mind telling him that this was a bad idea. That they didn’t know this guy, and they didn’t know if he could trust him. He wanted answers, didn’t he? If Travis had those answers, wasn’t that worth the risk?

 

“I’ll make you coffee if it sweetens the deal,” Travis continued.

 

Dipper decided it was worth the risk, after all.

 

“Deal.”

 

***

 

Norman did  _ not _ think Travis was crazy. He didn’t.

 

That didn’t necessarily mean he believed everything this man was telling them either.

 

“It’s basic journalistic research,” Dipper had whispered to him as they sat down in the small trailer, Travis setting two mugs of Folger’s instant coffee in front of them. “Eyewitness accounts are  _ key _ .”

 

“I’m not a journalist,” had been the medium’s only reply. He didn’t sip the black sludge in the chipped mug in his hand - he couldn’t bear to choke it down without cream or sugar, after all.

 

It was true, he didn’t have any journalist training. He’d majored in psychology. And psychologically speaking, it was far more likely to him that Travis’s memories of an alien abduction were caused by the psychological trauma of losing his wife and child rather than the reverse.

 

But the ghost of his wife was nowhere to be seen, not in the small, cluttered trailer. So what else could he do but sit and listen as Dipper “investigated” this stranger’s story?

 

“Why don’t you just start from the beginning?” Dipper was asking, brandishing a little notepad and a pen. (Of course he was. Norman would be lying to himself if he claimed he didn’t find his boyfriend’s enthusiasm kind of cute. Even when it had gotten them into so much trouble, it was still cute.  _ ‘Damn it, Dipper…’ _ )

 

“It was back in ‘97 when them aliens took my wife for the first time,” Travis began.  “Joyce… she was pregnant, you know. A healthy baby girl, the doctor said.”

 

Norman sat up a little straighter. He suddenly had a very,  _ very _ bad feeling about this story, one he couldn’t shake. He wasn’t sure he liked where it was inevitably leading.

 

“It all changed in one night. Ain’t it funny how everything can change like that in just one night?” Travis continued, oddly unperturbed. It was almost as if he was blocking out the emotions that would otherwise destroy him. “I wake up one night to this bright, blue light, and Joyce is floatin’ three, four feet in the air. And then she just… vanishes.”

 

Dipper shot Norman a look, mouthing the name ‘Linda’. The stories  were pretty similar. Norman’s discomfort only grew.

 

The stranger went on speaking, still weirdly unemotional. “She was gone for a whole day. Of course I called the cops, but they didn’t believe me, they said I was crazy. I ain’t crazy! I know what I saw! And the next night there comes  _ another _ blue flash - and there’s Joyce, screamin’ and cryin’ about the baby, she’s hysterical…”

 

His voice trailed off.

 

Norman looked over at Dipper, whose face - which always  _ did _ show his emotions as clear as day, no matter how much Dipper tried to hide them - was a mix of horrified and eager to know more. Norman leaned over, whispered in his boyfriend’s ear:

 

“ _ Gently _ , Dipper. This is probably hard for him to remember.”

 

(It was hard, after all, for Norman to hear all of this.)

 

“Then what happened?” To his credit, Dipper did sound like he was  _ trying _ to be gentle.

 

“Took her to the hospital,” Travis looked away. “They took an ultrasound, and the baby had completely vanished without a trace. Weirdest thing. It was like Joyce had never been pregnant at all.”

 

It was worse than Norman had imagined. He suddenly felt crushed for this woman he’d never known. Travis wasn’t crazy - he was traumatised. Who wouldn’t be?

 

“Wh-where’s Joyce now?” he asked before he could stop himself.

 

“Never recovered,” Travis answered. “They’d implanted something in her, you know. Made her very sick, no matter what the doctors did… after she died, I had it taken out, that implant.”

 

Dipper grimaced at that, and shoved his half-drank coffee away from him.

 

“Wanna see it?”

 

“N-no, that’s okay,” Norman shook his head. Something  _ really _ didn’t feel right, and Dipper looked almost sick. “We really should be going, I think Dipper wanted to see the UFO museum-”

 

“That museum ain’t gonna show you shit! What I have is  _ real _ !”

 

The medium shrank back a little, his mind and his pulse both suddenly racing.  _ ‘Something isn’t right, something isn’t right, something isn’t right...’ _

 

Travis rose to go fetch the object in question, and Dipper turned to Norman.

 

“Are you okay?” the older of the two asked. “Look, I know he’s a bit uncouth, but you are the last person I expected to judge someone like that.”

 

“I’m not  _ judging _ him,” Norman glared. He wanted to ask Dipper if they could just leave, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to. What right did he have to ask that, when so much was at stake? So instead, he just said, “something doesn’t…  _ feel  _ right. I know you feel it too.”

 

“Like he wants to keep us here as long as possible?” Dipper nodded. “He’s… probably just lonely?”

 

Norman wasn’t sure he believed that. And he wasn’t so sure that Dipper believed that, either.

 

“Look at this,” Travis returned, holding a glass mason jar. In it was something metallic, spiky, with glowing purple marks that almost looked like hieroglyphs. “Don’t open it - it might make you sick - but look. That’s alien, ain’t it?”

 

“I- I don’t know,” Dipper suddenly looked a lot less sure of himself as he took the jar delicately. “Where… exactly was it planted in her?”

 

“Where do you think?” Travis made a crude gesture.

 

Norman couldn’t take this anymore. Something was very wrong here. He grabbed Dipper’s free hand. Thankfully, his boyfriend got the message immediately:

 

“Thank you for showing us this… but Norman is right. We really should be going.”

 

“Wait!” Travis jumped up. “Don’t you wanna see what else I have? Photos of Joyce’s ultrasounds? I have so much I can tell you boys - so much  _ they _ don’t want you to know.”

 

“N-no, really, it’s okay-”

 

“You can’t go yet,” their strange companion moved to block the door. “Please, sit down. Just lemme talk a little longer, just ten more minutes!”

 

Norman clenched his eyes shut and ran, pulling Dipper toward the door. They had to get  _ out _ of here.  

 

Travis wasn’t quick enough to stop them.

 

***

 

Dipper had barely stepped out of the trailer - his eyes hadn’t even registered the desert scenery around it yet - when he was suddenly confronted with the sight of the van blocked in by police cars, and two black SUVs driving up towards them.

 

“Shit,” he muttered as the horrible realisation dawned on him. “ _ Shit _ !”

 

This was it. This was the end of the line for them. The police and the FBI agents were pouring out of their vehicles like swarms of flies, and with the van blocked in there was nowhere to run. How had they even  _ found _ them here in-

 

_ Travis . _

 

That  _ dick _ \- no wonder he’d been so eager to keep them in there!

 

“You motherfucker!” He turned to yell at the man poking his head out of the trailer. “We  _ trusted _ you! How could you do thi-”

 

_ BANG! _

 

A gunshot rang out and Travis’s brains spattered all over the interior of his trailer. Dipper screamed so loud that he couldn’t even tell if Norman was screaming, too. The police - or the government agents, he couldn’t even tell - had straight up  _ murdered _ this guy!

 

“What the fuck is going on?!” he raised his arms up over his head, shaking a little.

 

“You have the right to remain silent!” One of the cops called out, aiming the still-smoking gun at them, now. Dipper’s mouth went dry. “Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law! You have the right to an attorney-”

 

“Oh, shut up,” one of the men in black suits from the SUV’s brandished his FBI badge. “We failed in Brooklyn, in Pennsylvania, in- Collins wants them captured  _ now _ !”

 

“B-but sir-”

 

“But nothing! The tall one is  _ extremely _ dangerous. Take him down immediately,” the man in the black suit commanded. “That’s an  _ order _ , officer!”

 

Before Dipper even fully realised what was happening,  something sprung out and hit Norman in the neck. He watched the younger man go completely stiff and then start convulsing before collapsing to the ground.

 

They’d tasered him. They’d fucking  _ tasered _ him.

 

Suddenly, Dipper was  _ furious _ . He didn’t care what happened to him, now. All logic had flown out of the window, and he couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ear, couldn’t hear himself yelling and spewing profanities. The adrenalin completely took over as he went berserk.

 

He barely felt his fists colliding with face after face, barely noticed the blood getting on his face. Norman was  _ hurt _ . They had hurt  _ Norman _ ! Dipper wanted them to bleed for that, he wanted them to hurt the way Norman was hurting.

 

(Some small part of him reminded him what Norman had said once, about how making people suffer never solved anything. He ignored it, pushed it down. He didn’t care. He didn’t  _ care _ !)

 

He had no idea how long it took or how many people he swung at, but soon three or four men were on top of him, shoving his face into the dirt.

 

“Get the fuck  _ off _ of me!” He snarled, struggling against them. It was no use. One of the men held something to his face that smelled sickeningly sweet and felt like a blast of ice-cold wrongness down into his lungs. His vision began to blur.

 

The FBI agent kneeled down, looked into his face. Dipper couldn’t feel his fingertips.

 

“Funny,” the agent murmured, “The way Collins described you, I thought you’d be taller.”

 

Everything went black.

 

***

 

_ “THE FACILITY”, NEVADA _

 

Norman was rather rudely awoken by someone shoving him roughly down onto a metal table.

 

(His first conscious thought was  _ ‘like an autopsy table,’ _ and he choked back the bile rising in his throat.)

 

It took his eyes longer than usual to adjust, but when he did, he was greeted by the sight of a tall, bald man in a derby hat and sunglasses - one of Dipper’s men in black - holding him down.

 

“L-let me go,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

The man didn’t budge at first, didn’t even give any indication that he’d heard Norman’s plea.

 

But then a third voice called out from the darkness:

 

“Yes, you let him go! Or did you forget that  _ I _ wanted to deal with Babcock myself?”

 

“Sir?” the man holding Norman down looked up. Norman also tried to turn his head toward the source of the voice, but his neck was too sore from where the taser had gotten him.

 

It didn’t matter, anyway. The man who had spoken stepped into view, pulling the man in black off of Norman.

 

“Get out of here. Go interrogate the other one. Leave Babcock to me - or did you want to become the next Linda Cortile?”

 

Norman’s eyes went wide. What did he mean by that? Evidently something bad - the man in black walked stiffly out of the room. The medium could  hear a door slamming.

 

This new agent grinned down at him.

 

“Wh-what happened to Linda Cortile?” Norman struggled to sit up.

 

The man reached out and roughly shoved him back down, causing him to gasp in pain.

 

“Does it really matter?” The stranger grinned at him. “By the way, I believe this is the first time we’ve formally met, isn’t it? Agent Ross Collins. You could say I’m a big fan.”

 

“Wh-what?” He hated how weak his voice sounded. Scared. Helpless.

 

“Rather,” Collins began restraining one of his wrists with a leather strap, “I’m a big fan of what you can  _ do _ .”

 

“I don’t know what you-”

 

“ _ You _ , Norman Babcock, have the power to change the world,” Agent Collins leaned over him with that wide, uncanny grin. “To shine brighter than the sun. Did you know that the earliest human monuments were to the sun? Visible, yet mysterious. Warm, yet thoroughly dangerous. Giver of life, yet the most potent of destructive forces… that could’ve been  _ you _ .”

 

Norman could feel his heart pounding as the FBI agent tied down his other wrist. What was he  _ talking _ about?

 

“But,” Agent Collins continued, as if what he was saying was completely ordinary, “the sun must set. The black sun arises.”

 

“The- the what?”

 

The man rolled his eyes. “Honestly, it’s like talking to a  _ child _ … You know I had scientists analyse samples from a sleepy little town in Oregon - did you know your little lightning trick is as powerful as a nuclear bomb? And you’re selfishly keeping it to yourself.”

 

Norman’s blood ran cold. He tried again to sit up. Again, the agent pushed him back down, dragging a heavy leather strap over his chest.

 

“N-no,” Norman shook his head. “You want me to- Please don’t make me do this, you don’t understand. It doesn’t work like that, it can’t be controlled-”

 

“Not by  _ you _ ,” Collins strapped down his legs. Norman was completely restrained now. “But in the hands of someone more qualified…”

 

“What?!”

 

“I’ve waited so long for this, you know. For  _ your _ power. Oh, if you could only see what I plan to do with it!” The man laughed. “A new world order… all thanks to  _ you _ .”

 

He fought against the straps tying him down. He had to fight, he couldn’t let them do this. Didn’t Collins understand how  _ dangerous _ it was?

 

“You can’t-” Norman began, but Agent Collins cut him off:

 

“I can. And I will. You may as well stop these useless protests of yours. Throw down your sword. Give up the fight.”

 

“I won’t let you do this!”

 

“Won’t you? If you don’t, there are other ways I can get you to agree...” The agent chuckled, and then - much to Norman’s surprise - began to sing. “Who wants a lamby lamby lamby? I do, I do.”

 

The medium froze. That was Dipper’s song. Was Collins threatening to hurt Dipper if Norman didn’t agree?

 

“So go up and greet your mammy, mammy, mammy. Hi there, Hi there,” Collins continued quietly, dragging a machine into the light. What was the machine for?

 

Norman couldn’t bring himself to ask. Couldn’t bring himself to condemn Dipper to - what, torture? Death? No, Dipper didn’t deserve that. He’d do anything if it meant Dipper was safe!

 

“So march march march around the daisies,” Collins pulled what looked like a long cord out of one side of the machine. “Don’t, don’t, don’t you forget about the baby…”

 

“If I stop fighting,” Norman whispered, hating himself for how weak he felt, “will… will you let Dipper go?”

 

“I can give you my word that he will be released from custody.”

 

The medium glared. What did that mean? 

 

Collins clamped something around his head, and he could feel two cold, metal circles over his temples. 

 

“I don’t want him getting hurt,” he tried again. “It’s me you want, so let him have a normal life.”

 

“After this baby is done sucking that power out of you?” Collins laughed again. “I doubt you’ll much care.”

 

“S-sucking the power out of me-?!” Norman gasped. Is that what the machine was for? Would it kill him?

 

Or would it make him… normal?

 

“You stole something from me a long time ago, you know. I’m taking it back,” Collins placed more metal discs on Norman’s chest, shoving them down his shirt. The medium didn’t dare respond. 

 

The man flipped a switch and suddenly he felt the most agonising pain. It was as if something was tearing out his brain and his lungs through his pores, it was as if he was being ripped in half.

 

Would this make him normal?

 

Would this make Dipper safe?

 

Collins leaned down over Norman’s face again, close enough to kiss him, grinning.

 

His eyes looked almost  _ yellow _ in this light.

 

“It’s been a long time,” his grin got wider, his eyes yellower, “Little Ghost.”

 

Realisation hit Norman all too late.

 

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G̣ue͕͉śs̛̯̰ ̩̰̲wh͔͉͍̠̝̦o͎̼'̠͈̼̟͔s̜̩͉̫̥̕ͅ ̰̤̤͉͟b͔̳̙͔a̞c͘k̺͔̮͚̮


	12. Libra

_ “THE FACILITY”, NEVADA _

 

Dipper regained consciousness in a windowless room, tied to a chair like a common criminal. They hadn’t even given him the luxury of handcuffs. There was a single light bulb dangling from a chain in the ceiling, and all he could see was a table in front of him and a door on one end of the room.

 

At first he was disoriented. How had he gotten here? But then, it came back to him in a flash of memory after memory: Roswell. Travis. Norman getting tasered and Dipper being slammed to the ground.

 

“You’re awake,” a figure stepped out of the darkness, and Dipper recognised him immediately as the FBI agent who had ordered the cops to tase his boyfriend. The one who had called him short.

 

He mustered up his fiercest glare, already feeling the rage bubbling up in his stomach again.

 

“Where’s Norman?” he spat.

 

“Agent Shaw,” the man flashed his badge, ignoring Dipper’s questions. “There’s no need to get hostile, Pines. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

 

“I’m not talking to you until you tell me where Norman is!” Dipper screamed, feeling a little bit of spittle at the corner of his mouth. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone as bad in his life as he wanted to hurt Agent Shaw right now. What had this man done to Norman? Where  was he?!

 

“That information,” the agent pursed his lips, “is classified.”

 

“Classified by  _ who _ ?! I have a right to know where my _ boyfriend _ is!”

 

“Agent Collins has made it very clear-”

 

“Who the fuck is Agent Collins?!” Dipper screamed even louder, straining against whatever they had him tied with. All this did was make his chair move forward an inch. Agent Shaw glared at him.

 

“ I am the one running the interrogation. Not you. Now I can continue to be civil, or we can do this the hard way. It’s  your choice, Mr. Pines. Not mine.”

 

Dipper returned his glare readily, clenching his jaw so hard it was trembling a little. Agent Collins… where had he heard the name before?

 

( _ “Collins wants them captured now,” _ Shaw’s voice echoed in the back of Dipper’s mind.  _ “Collins said you’d be taller.”  _ It was  _ Collins _ ’ fault they were in this place.)

 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Dipper hissed angrily. “I want to talk to Agent Collins. Give him a piece of my mind.”

 

“Collins is… busy at the moment,” Shaw looked away. “Now, I have just a few questions about Montauk-”

 

“You get me Agent Collins, or you get me my  _ boyfriend _ !”

 

“You are in no position to make demands!” Agent Shaw finally snapped, slamming his hands down on the table.

 

The two men glared at each other from across the table. Dipper continued to strain against his restraints. He didn’t care if it made his wrists raw and sore; if he could only just punch this asshole across his smug face and run to find Norman…

 

Agent Shaw stood up straighter, adjusted his tie.

 

“I’ll give you some time to calm down,” he told Dipper, “and we can continue this…  _ conversation _ later.”

 

Dipper watched the man exit the room through the one door. And then, frustrated and angry, he let out a loud scream. It wasn’t  _ fair _ . He was supposed to protect Norman from all of this - had they gone on the run for nothing?!

 

He sighed miserably, feeling tears of frustration begin to prick at his eyes. ( _ ‘Don’t cry, damn it. You don’t deserve to cry.’ _ )

 

And then he heard it.

 

At first, he thought it was the echo of his own pissed off yell. But it went on far too long, and was far too uniform. Horrified recognition washed over him and Dipper suddenly felt nauseous. He knew that voice.

 

Norman was screaming.

 

With a strength he didn’t even know he had, he tore his arms away from the chair, from whatever had been tying him down. If it hurt, he didn’t even notice, didn’t notice the pain as he slammed his body against the door until it opened, didn’t notice anything except that sound, that horrible sound. Norman was _ screaming _ , he was hurting, he was crying out, he needed Dipper. He  _ needed _ Dipper!

 

“Freeze!” Someone yelled out. Dipper didn’t stop running. 

 

He was vaguely aware of a man trying to block his path, but he pushed past and didn’t stop running. It didn’t even register to him when the sounds of bullets began. He had to keep going, he couldn’t stop, not when Norman needed him like that.

 

Finally, he made it to the room where they’d taken Norman. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he took in everything he could. Norman was strapped down to what looked like an autopsy table, with a machine connected to his head and chest that looked like something out of a demented hospital-themed horror movie. Dipper didn’t know what the machine was doing, but it was clearly hurting him pretty badly. Norman wouldn’t stop screaming - horrible, raw yells, the likes of which Dipper had never heard before, as if the cacophony was being forcibly  _ ripped _ from Norman’s lungs.

 

“Norman!” Dipper ran over to him, tried to pull open the leather straps holding him down, but it was no use. They didn’t budge. 

 

Norman didn’t even seem to notice him, didn’t hear him over his own screaming. And now that he was close, it was  _ so much _ worse. The medium’s back was arched up off the table against the straps digging into his skin, and little green sparks were beginning to form around the metal discs on his head and chest - as well as in the back of his throat as he screamed. The lights in the room were flickering on and off with every horrible, wretched yell.

 

Dipper knew immediately that he had to stop that machine. There was no time to even think about it - he just knew .

 

There was seemingly nothing to turn it off. No cords to unplug, no switches or levers to flip, nothing he could throw at it to smash it with. But the screaming echoing throughout the room dug into his ears, lodging in his skull, and only made him more determined to find a way to stop it. With a strength he didn’t know he had, he tore the side panel of the machine - it groaned in protest, shredding his fingers as it scraped open, but he did it. The same little green sparks were bouncing back and forth in the gears inside as they churned, scraping against one another. 

 

Gears were good - he knew how gears worked. He could stop this. He could save Norman.

 

He tore off his flannel, popping some of the buttons with how fast he removed it, and shoved it into the gears to jam them. He’d get Norman out of there. He  _ would _ .

 

But to his horror, the machine swallowed up his shirt as if it was nothing. It hadn’t done a damn thing.

 

Still, Norman screamed. It was getting worse - if he didn’t stop screaming he’d probably start bleeding from the throat. Dipper looked over at his boyfriend, fighting against his restraints, hands balling into little pained, shaking fists. The lightning behind his eyelids flashed fluorescent green. Norman was losing more and more of himself to this damn machine and Dipper was running out of time to stop it.

 

He didn’t think.

 

He just threw out his left arm.

 

White hot searing pain shot up into his shoulder as the gears crunched over his bones, and now, Dipper was screaming too.

 

But at least Norman would be okay.

 

***

 

Norman felt like he was being torn in half.

 

It was the most intense, agonising pain imaginable, digging right into his core and sinking its teeth into everything that made him Norman and tearing it to shreds. Every time he thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, it somehow managed to increase tenfold. He was being ripped into pieces by this machine, he was sure of it. It was demolishing every atom in his body, he could feel their little explosions igniting just under his skin.

 

He could hear screaming, like the wails of the damned, but the pain was so white-hot and unimaginable that it barely even registered to him that those horrid screams of agony were being ripped from his own lungs.

 

“Norman!”

 

It almost sounded like someone was calling out to him from far, far away, as if through water. Was it the spirits on the Other Side? Was he dying? He couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything to stop the horrid screams from forcing themselves out of his mouth.  

 

It took all his effort to force one of his eyes open. He could feel it watering from the pain, and everything was tinted with a bright, sickly green shade. Little sparks were popping all around, dancing in his vision, but something familiar registered in his vision.

 

Dipper was standing over him, tugging at the straps holding him down.

 

_ ‘No!’ _ Norman wanted to tell him. _ ‘Get out of here before they find you! Before Agent Coll- no, before  _ Bill _ finds you! Before I completely lose control of the lightning and ignite! Dipper, please… before you get hurt, please, go…’ _

 

He fought so hard, even through the hellish agony, to say all these things. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t stop the pain.

 

And then, Dipper was gone.

 

Norman’s pain skyrocketed. Where was Dipper? He fought even harder against the force of the machine that still seemed hell-bent on tearing him in two, he had to get to Dipper,  _ where the hell was Dipper _ ?! The agony swirled in his stomach along with the most horrific terror he had ever felt in his life. Along with fear and panic and sadness…

 

...and  _ anger _ .

 

There was no use trying to push it down as it fought its way to the surface along with his raw, painful screams. He was  _ angry _ . This whole time - this  _ whole time _ \- he’d done everything he could to keep Dipper safe and it was all for nothing! His fists opened and closed against the electric green sparks gathering under his fingernails. 

 

The pain stopped out of nowhere, and Norman collapsed a little against the cool metal of the table. Only then was he aware of the tears streaming down his face, the soreness of where his skin had chafed against the leather restraints, the burning hot sensation where the metal discs were half-fused into his skin, and the angry green lightning coursing just under his skin in his veins. He tried to take a shaky breath - if he didn’t get his anger at the situation under control he’d completely lose himself to the lightning, and Dipper would-

 

Where was Dipper?!

 

Only then did he hear that not all the screaming had been coming from him.

 

It took every ounce of the medium’s strength to be able to turn his head a little to the right, towards the machine Agent Collins (could he even still call him Agent Collins?) had hooked him up to.

 

Dipper’s face was twisted up and snowy white as he half-crouched in front of the side of the machine, his screams fading into sickly little groans. He looked as if he was about to vomit or faint. Or both. And the worst part of it was his left arm - the same arm he had broken all those years ago defending Norman from Bill the first time around - was jammed into the side of the machine. Norman couldn’t see it, but he heard the scraping and popping of machinery breaking and malfunctioning. And he saw the blood, dark red and way chunkier than it had any right to be, pooling on the floor in front of Dipper. Why was there so much blood? Why did it  _ look _ like that?

 

The medium’s worst fears were coming true, and he was so  _ angry _ . How could this be happening again?! It was just like all those years ago. Everything he feared the most was happening all over again. He couldn’t let that happen. He  _ wouldn’t _ let that happen. He would do anything to keep that from happening again. Even give in to the one thing he promised himself he never would. 

 

Norman gave in. He ignited.

 

The leather straps holding him down disintegrated immediately as he rose from the table effortlessly. From here in the air, he felt so powerful, like he could destroy anything. Like he  _ wanted  _ to destroy  _ everything _ , everything that had ever hurt Dipper Pines, he wanted destruction and annihilation and punishment for everyone and everything in this whole damn building.

 

“No,” he shook his head rapidly, causing arcs of whitish-green lightning to erupt from his form, destroying the machine and burning the walls. “No, that’s not me, that’s not-”

 

Dipper collapsed to the floor into his own blood in front of him, and through the green tint that plagued Norman’s vision, through the  _ rage _ that was threatening to take him over entirely, he could see Dipper’s left arm was absolutely mangled, shards of ivory ulna and radius poking their wretched heads through the mess of deep red.

 

“Dipper-!” Norman began to gasp, but that just made more of the electric green jolts escape. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening, no no  _ no _ !

 

“Freeze,” a voice commanded from behind him, and Norman heard the sound of a gun clicking, as if someone was getting ready to fire at him.

 

Suddenly, the rage completely boiled over.  _ They  _ had done this to him. It was their fault Dipper was- No, he couldn’t even finish that thought, couldn’t bear to think anything except that this was all their fault and how  _ dare _ they?!

 

“How  _ dare _ you?!” he whirled around, screaming in the agent’s face. He could feel himself rising into the air; he could actually  _ see _ lightning jumping off of him in quick, violent arches.

 

The agent in front of him looked terrified, and fumblingly grabbed a walkie-talkie, screaming into it, “C-Collins?! Shaw?! Anyone, requesting back-up, I need back-up, I-”

 

“You took him away from me!” Norman screamed again, hurling a beam of electricity into the man’s hand to make that stupid walkie-talkie completely explode. The stranger grabbed at his wrist and yelped as if he had been burned, and Norman didn’t care. He didn’t care! Why should he care anymore?! Not when Dipper was lying in a pool of his own blood because of these fucks. 

 

Other men in suits ran into the room through a door near the back, and Norman screamed wordlessly now. He hated them all in this moment - how could they condone something that would hurt someone as precious as Dipper?! His hatred manifested in blasts of lightning, taking them all down before they could even get out their guns.

 

“You’ll pay for this!  _ You’ll all pay _ !” he couldn’t stop, not now. He had to make them suffer. He didn’t care what he’d said before. Without Dipper, what was even the fucking point anymore? And Dipper would want revenge, wouldn’t he? Yes, Norman was sure of it - Dipper would  _ want _ them all to suffer!

 

“Stand down, Babcock!” A familiar voice yelled, and Norman whipped his head around.

 

Agent Shaw - the man who had arrested them - stood with his hands in the air. No guns. No badges. He looked so… vulnerable. An easy target. Norman balled his fists.

 

“I don’t condone torture-” Agent Shaw began.

 

Norman didn’t even bother with words anymore. He just opened his mouth and shrieked, watching his terrible, awe-inspiring power latch onto Agent Shaw. This man had tased him, this man had separated him and Dipper, and now Norman was going to make him hurt as much as Shaw had hurt them.

 

The green lightning completely overtook the FBI agent. It was a matter of seconds before Agent Shaw fell still to the ground, smoky tendrils still rising from his burned flesh.

 

“You took him away from me!” Norman continued to rant against no one in particular, lightning coming off of him and stabbing into the walls like knives. “You killed him! Your stupid fucking machine-  _ YOU KILLED HIM _ !”

 

"͈̄͐ͤ͗̌́N̼̟̯̗̜͞ȍ͑͂̆,̸̔ ̳ͥ̿̊̆̊͆ͨL̪̹͍ͭ̂ͨ͑̚i͙̹̲̥̙͙͊t̲̮̪͢t̼̝ͩ̅̏̂͊ͣ͐l͚̏ͫ̌ͬ̃̈́̄͢é͈̦̂͛̈́̊̑̿ ̬̞͈̣̻̦͇̂̍̕G̡̣͔ͦ͌̈́̔̐hͧ̾̃o͛̚͜s̙̬͍ͣ̀͂̾̽ͨ̍͟ț̲͉͈͊̈́͑ͯ.̴̭̋ͭ̓̀̃̅ͅ ͙͒

͓̞͎̟̦͈̋

̥͓̹̜̣͇̾͆͛́ͬ̿͟ͅY̖̼͈̮͕oͥ̕üͪ̈̉̿̍̇́ ̶͕̤͚̒ͫ̋͗̎͛k̹̦̘̖̘̆͂ͥ̅ͦ͑i̭̇ͮͪ͊ͤl̟̈l̻̦̱̘̥͚̀ẽ͙̣͓͙̳̭́͐ͨ̊d̴͕̞̤̝̭̯̥̃͊́̒̚ ̾̉ͯͩͩ͏͔̗̯h̯̩̤͖̞̯ͅi̿ͪ̾m̹̗͕̣̲͜.̍̒ͮ̃"̢͒

 

That voice - that all too familiar voice from all those years ago - cut deep into what little was left of Norman Babcock, and he screamed until it felt like he was exploding, like he was no longer even human. 

 

There was nothing left but violent, electric fury. There was no calm. Only the storm.

 

Where was Agent Collins? Where was the voice coming from? He’d wanted to get his hands on this power, hadn’t he?! Norman was going to make him feel the full force of it until it ripped the eldritch abomination out of him and he could destroy  _ him _ too for good measure!

 

“N-Norman…” Dipper’s voice, so weak and small, suddenly piped up. That voice - he loved that voice, how could he forget that love? - somehow managed to get through all the anger, despite how tiny and frail it sounded.

 

“ _ No _ !” Norman feared the worst. He couldn’t bear to turn around and see Dipper’s ghost. He couldn’t look him in the eyes, not if he’d died for him “No no no  _ no _ !”

 

“It’s…” Dipper’s voice came again, coughing. “It’s okay… Norman…”

 

The medium paused. If Dipper was coughing, then he was  _ breathing _ . He wasn’t… he wasn’t dead?

 

He forced himself down to the floor, opening and closing his fists as he took deep breaths, counting to ten forwards and backwards until he could feel the strength of the electric currents in his bloodstream begin to fade. Only then did he feel safe looking at Dipper.

 

The older man was hunched over and clutching the mess that had once been his left arm, still pale from the blood loss, drifting in and out of consciousness. Begging. He… didn’t want revenge?

 

“Norman, please… don’t lose yourself, please…”

 

“Dipper-!” Norman fell trembling to his knees, all his anger suddenly transforming into the most intense grief he had ever felt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-!”

 

“You’re… s-safe…” Dipper’s brown eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed forward into the medium’s arms. 

 

Hot tears of shame rolled down the medium’s cheeks as he held his unconscious boyfriend, watching him bleed out of the mangled chunk of flesh and bone. His left hand was still intact, but only just barely.

 

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Dip,” Norman cried. What had he just done? If he had only pulled Dipper out of there right away instead of going berserk… 

 

He gasped. They weren’t safe yet. He still had to get Dipper _ out _ of here.

 

He didn’t know if it was adrenaline or residual power from what had just happened, but somehow he managed to lift Dipper into his arms. He didn’t want to think about the crumpled forms he stepped over as he pulled Dipper out of the dark room. He didn’t want to know if they were just unconscious or if the reality was far worse, he didn’t want to know he was capable of what he’d always feared.

 

Norman had no idea how he found his way out of the building and into the too-bright desert sunlight. Squinting, he pressed on. The sun beat down on him, and he could feel Dipper’s blood running down his front, but he had to keep going even if it felt like everything was spinning.

 

Finally, he collapsed at the side of a vast, empty road, in the shade of a road sign. His strength was fading fast, and the world seemed to be spinning even faster all around him. Dizzy and weak now, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing the number from memory in a last-ditch effort to save Dipper. This would all be worth it if only Dipper was okay.

 

“Hello?” The familiar, feminine voice on the end of the line sounded irritated. “Who’s there? Hello?”

 

“P-Pacifica…” it took all of his effort to spit out her name.

 

“Norman?!” Pacifica yelped. “You sound terrible! Where the hell are you?! Mabel and I have been worried sick-!”

 

“You need to- nn…” he clenched his eyes shut for a second. His vision was fading in and out, the tips of his fingers were going numb, but he couldn’t fail Dipper. He looked up at the road sign, and could just barely make out what it said. “S-state route… 375…”

 

“What does that  _ mean _ ? Norman? Answer me, Norman! Please-!” 

 

Pacifica sounded hysterical now, but he no longer had the strength to answer her, or to even process her words at all. 

 

His head dropped to the dirt, the phone falling away from his fingers as he, too, fell unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look up what State Route 375 actually leads to, you'll know exactly what "facility" they were stuck in


	13. Scorpio

_???????? _

 

He had no idea where he was when his eyes opened. But the screaming and crying all around him clued him in pretty quick.

 

Norman was in a hospital.

 

He’d always hated hospitals, always hated the sheer volume of ghosts stuck in them, weeping or yelling or just unable to accept their deaths. He couldn’t possibly help all of them. Hospitals were  _ exhausting _ .

 

“P-please stop screaming,” he clenched his eyes shut again. The fluorescent lighting was hurting his head anyway.

 

The memories came back in one sudden, horrible explosion, and he bolted up with a gasp. 

 

“Dipper-! where-!?”

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay!”

 

Norman turned his head feebly towards the second voice. He hadn’t noticed her at first through the cries and screams of the dead all around him (god, he hated hospitals) but there by his bed was Pacifica Northwest, clutching a tattered old copy of “Vogue Paris” magazine.

 

“Pacifica…” his own voice sounded so weak. He didn’t have an IV in him, thank god, but he could feel the soreness in the crook of his arm where there had been one. He could feel the pain in his body from the ordeal he’d just been through. The weakness from what he had just done. His head, so accustomed now to the beanies he’d been wearing to hide his hair, felt bare and cold from how naked it was. He could tell without looking in a mirror that there were burn marks at his temples - they still felt like they were on fire.

 

Pacifica looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept at all. Her hair was disheveled, held back from her face with a clip. Her blue green eyes were red and puffy, and her eye make-up was slightly smeared as if she’d been crying recently.

 

“We’re at a hospital in Quebec. I had you air-lifted here,” the blonde looked down, balling her hands into fists at her knees and dropping the magazine to the floor. “None of the nurses speak English and they don’t ask a lot of questions… But if anyone asks, your name is Étienne Babineaux.”

 

“Pacifica, where is Dipper?”

 

She pursed her lips, not looking him in the eyes.

 

Norman’s heart clenched and it felt like the world was shattering into pieces around him. Why wasn’t she answering? Dipper had lost so much blood - could it be that he hadn’t made it after all?

 

“Please…” his voice was barely over a whisper. “Please just tell me where he is, please tell me he’s not…”

 

“He’s not dead,” she answered quickly. “He lost a lot of blood, but they think they can save his arm. Mabel was able to give some of her blood before he went into his first round of reconstructive surgery… but…” Pacifica looked back up at him, “I’m sorry, they don’t… they don’t know if he’ll pull through or not. They’re doing everything they can. I thought Mabel would be back; I didn’t want to be the one to tell you-”

 

Norman wailed. Burying his face in his hands, he actually  _ wailed _ . It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t! It felt as if his whole world was falling apart and all he could do about it was sob pathetically. This was all his fault! Dipper might not pull through and it’d be all his fault, for not fighting when he was being strapped down, for not pulling him away out of the machine, for giving in to the anger, for not trying harder to talk Dipper out of going to Roswell when he'd  _ known _ it was a bad idea!

 

"Oh god," he sobbed into his hands, vaguely feeling Pacifica's thin arms snaking around him. He was too weak to pull away, even if he didn't deserve that kind of comfort, not when Dipper could be dying. “Oh my god…”

 

“I’m… sorry,” Pacifica tried, awkwardly rubbing small circles into his back. “Look, Dipper is stubborn, he might make it after all, he might… god, I’m so bad at this, I’m sorry.”

 

“I want to see him,” he murmured.

 

“I- I don’t know if that’s a good idea-”

 

“Pacifica,  _ please _ !” He looked up at her, tears streaming down his face. “Where is he?”

 

Clearly taken aback from the look on his face, she couldn’t help but blurt out, “d-down the hall, in unité de soins intensif! But Norman, you shouldn’t-”

 

He didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, he needed Dipper. He pushed her away, struggling to get out of the bed. He ignored her protests. He ignored the sounds of the dead begging him for help - most of them were speaking French anyway - as he fought his way down the hall. He ignored the beeping of machines and coughing of patients in neighbouring rooms.

 

“Où va-t-il? Il a besoin de repos!” someone called out behind him, and Norman ignored that too. He was running now, running towards the signs pointing towards “USI”, the French version of “ICU”.

 

“Je sais!” He could hear Pacifica yelling behind him, probably at the nurse. “Il est dans la doleur! Nor- I mean, Étienne, wait!”

 

He ignored that too. Nothing mattered to him anymore except getting to Dipper.

 

He finally found the room where Mabel sat next to her twin brother. The brunette girl looked surprised to see him.

 

“Norman!” Mabel gasped. Unlike Pacifica, she made no effort to disguise that she’d been crying recently, too. A bandage was wrapped around her arm where the doctors had taken blood from her to save her brother. “You’re awake!”

 

He didn’t pay any attention to Mabel. Not when Dipper was right there in front of him.

 

It was worse than he had imagined. The older man had so many tubes going out of him that it looked like something out of a horror film, and not the kind Norman liked. He had machines breathing for him, pumping his heart for him, an IV giving his body nutrition. His left arm was completely enclosed, fingertips to shoulder, in a beige cast holding it together. Dipper, who had always been so strong, looked so weak and fragile with all those machines connected to him. He didn’t even look  _ alive _ . 

 

And it was all Norman’s fault.

 

The medium completely collapsed to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up now that he had seen the horrible reality of the situation. Clutching at his hair with trembling hands, his breath quickened as the sobs overtook him once more, wracking his entire frame. This couldn’t be happening, it had to be a nightmare, this couldn’t be _ real _ !

 

Mabel was at his side in an instant, pulling him to her chest right as Pacifica came into the room. Norman didn’t have it in him to fight either of them off of him as he bawled wordlessly.

 

“Oh, Norman,” Mabel breathed right by his ear, cooing gently. “It’ll be okay.”

 

“It’s _ not _ okay!” He cried out, shaking in fear. “ _ Look _ at him! Oh, god, Dipper, please don’t be dead, please wake up, please...”

 

It was no use. Dipper lay completely unresponsive in the hospital bed. 

 

Norman didn’t know what to do anymore. In the past month or so - how long had it been? He didn’t even know- they had lost  _ everything _ over this latest damn adventure. (He was tired of these damn adventures.) He couldn’t lose Dipper, too. After everything else, he couldn’t do that.  He wasn’t strong enough to do this on his own. Not without Dipper.

 

And still, Dipper stubbornly refused to wake up. He always had been stubborn. It would be a miracle if he would just  _ open his eyes _ . And Norman knew he, of all people, didn’t deserve a miracle, but  god , he really hoped for one in that moment.

 

“Please,” he whimpered again, weakly. He was so weak. Only Pacifica and Mabel were holding him up now; if it weren’t for the girls he’d be lying on the floor. “Dipper, I need you…”

 

But the only response from Dipper was the beeping of the heart monitor.

 

***

 

It had taken coaxing from the girls, until he was too weak from sobbing to even think about arguing, to get Norman out of that room and into the waiting room. He didn’t know how long he’d been out there, laying his head in Pacifica’s lap, alternating between sobbing his heart out and feeling utterly numb and broken. He was vaguely aware of Pacifica translating when a doctor came out to speak to him, something about Dipper going into another surgery.

 

Norman had never felt more broken in his life. He’d fought so hard in Nevada, but without Dipper it would all be for nothing.

 

“You should try to eat something,” Pacifica had told him at one point, but he had refused.

 

“Please try to rest; you’re healing too,” Mabel had begged him at another point. Still, Norman refused. 

 

He couldn’t even look either of them in the eye. Not when everything he did only lead to  _ this _ .

 

There was a TV in the waiting room that had been playing French news for hours. Norman had paid it no mind. Even if he could understand French, he didn’t care about any of it. He couldn’t bring himself to care about anything except for if Dipper was going to be okay or not.

 

Eventually, however - he had no idea how long it had been - it switched over to news in English. It didn’t even register at first until he heard his name:

 

“...and Norman Babcock have escaped government custody in Nevada,” the reporter was saying. “Those at the scene have reported a number of fatalities, though the exact number still remains to be released. Among those killed by these two terrorists are government agent Daniel Shaw-”

 

“Éteins la télévision!” Pacifica snapped at one of the nurses, who quickly turned the channel to some children’s show.

 

It was too late. Norman had heard. The reporter had said “killed”.

 

He’d  _ killed _ a man. He’d killed _multiple_ men.

 

Suddenly he shot straight up, feeling sick to his stomach.

 

“N-Norman-!” the blonde began to protest, but he ignored that, too. 

 

Fearful of throwing up into Pacifica’s lap or something (he knew she’d forgive him, but he didn’t deserve her forgiveness anyway), he bolted towards the men’s bathroom and hunched over the sink.

 

The nausea soon passed without incident, but the horrific thoughts still swirled in his head.

 

_ ‘You killed people,’  _ he told himself.  _ ‘What right did you have to say whether someone else lives or dies? You’re no better than Bill Cipher. Murderer. Monster. You don’t deserve Dipper. You don’t deserve him and he’s going to die - because of you!’ _

 

Norman raised his eyes, filled to the brim with fresh tears, to face his reflection in the mirror.

 

The face that stared back at him was pale and tired and so damn  _ ugly _ . Norman had never quite liked his weird features - his heavy eyebrows, his ears that stuck out, his crooked nose and teeth - but now he hated everything about them. Why should he get to live and breathe when Dipper was laying in a bed with machines breathing for him? When Agent Shaw and Travis and Linda Cortile and however many others were being buried in a ground somewhere? And it was all his fault!

 

“F-fucking idiot…” he whispered to his reflection. “This is all your fault.”

 

His reflection glared back at him, tears spilling over.

 

“Stop crying, you idiot!” He was shaking again as he made these hopeless demands. He was too weak to even command himself. No wonder he hadn’t been able to save Dipper. “Stop fucking crying - you don’t deserve to cry!”

 

It was no use. The tears just kept coming, no matter how forcefully he wiped at his face.

 

How could he have ever let himself give into his anger like that? He’d seen what had happened with Agatha Prenderghast - he’d  _ known _ it was dangerous! He hadn’t even felt bad for what he’d done to Agent Shaw! 

 

“You’re a murderer,” he hissed to himself, glaring as the tears still flowed. “How could you ever think a  _ freak _ like you was good enough for someone like Dipper Pines? How?! And now he’s going to die - because of  _ you _ ! You’re a worthless piece of shit. Damn it, stop crying! You don’t deserve to cry, you fucking broken  _ idiot _ !”

 

He didn’t even want to look at himself anymore. Didn’t want to watch himself cry - he was so weak and pathetic, how dare he cry? How  _ dare _ he?!

 

He couldn’t look at his own face without feeling sick again. There was only one thing for it. He had to suffer for what he had done, he had to be punished.

 

Before he could talk himself out of it - he didn’t  _ deserve _ to be talked out of it - Norman slammed his head forward into the mirror with a loud  _ CRASH _ , shattering the mirror as he continued to bang his face into it over and over and over. 

 

“What the fuck are you  _ doing _ ?!” Someone shrieked behind him, and Norman could feel himself being forcefully pulled away from the broken mirror.

 

Pacifica fell to the floor of the bathroom, holding Norman close to her and looking absolutely  _ horrified _ .

 

“I- I heard a crash-” she began, colour draining from her cheeks as she took in the damage he had just done.

 

Norman felt awful as he watched her face change. She was worried about him, about what he had just done. 

 

“I’m s-sorry,” he protested weakly, casting his eyes downward so he wouldn’t have to see that worried look in her blue-green eyes. He could see the blood drops falling from his forehead to her knees and the tiles. “It was an accident… I’m sorry…”

 

They both knew he was lying.

 

Pacifica cupped the side of his face with one hand - just like how Dipper would do it, though Pacifica’s hands were so much smaller - and turned it back up towards her with a tenderness that few knew she was even capable of. Norman felt himself break a little more as he saw the way her eyebrows knit together, the way she was fighting to keep her own face from crumpling, the way her turquoise eyes filled with tears.

 

“Norman…” her voice sounded tiny, afraid. He’d  _ scared _ her. He’d made her  _ cry _ . He couldn’t do anything right! 

 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated himself. What else could he possibly say?

 

Pacifica paused for a moment, as if she didn’t know what to say either. Then, she sighed. What did that sigh mean?

 

“Don’t tell Mabel…” he whispered. 

 

She shook her head and said, “let’s… let’s just get you cleaned up. Okay?”

 

And then Norman collapsed into her, letting himself sob as she picked shards of glass off his face and out of his hair. He didn’t have it in him to fight her off anymore.

 

***

 

When Dipper finally woke up, the pain that radiated from his left arm almost knocked him completely out again.  His head was swimming - what had  _ happened _ ?  Where  _ was _ he?  Feeling something in his right hand, it took Dipper all of his effort to turn his head and see his boyfriend, having recently dozed off in a chair beside his bed, holding his hand.

 

Norman had trouble sleeping alone. How long, Dipper wondered, had he been unconscious?

 

And then he noticed the large, circular burn marks on Norman’s temples. The thin cuts spread across one half of his forehead, just over his eye. Where had those come from? And he remembered everything. The facility in Nevada. That awful machine. The smell of something burning.  

 

They were lucky to be alive.

 

"Norman,” he spoke.  His voice was croaky from not having been used for some time.  Norman startled awake.

 

“D-Dipper?!” The medium gasped. Dipper’s heart dropped at how sad and scared the younger man sounded. “You’re- you’re awake…”

 

“Are you okay?” Dipper tried to bring a weak, shaking hand up to the burns on the medium’s face.  

 

Norman pulled back, expression changing as he recoiled from Dipper’s touch. Dipper frowned - why would he do that? 

 

“Am I- am I okay?! Are you  _ serious _ ?!” The medium continued to stare at him with that expression as he said, “Dipper, you- do you even remember what you did?!”

 

The older of the two tried to shrug so Norman wouldn’t worry so much about him, then winced from the hurt of it. “It’s not a big deal. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

 

He knew it wasn’t that simple, but he hoped that if he acted like he wasn’t worried, than Norman wouldn’t worry. The last thing he wanted was to worry him more after what they had just been through.

 

Norman didn’t respond at first. His big blue eyes - the eyes Dipper loved so much - filled with tears, but they didn’t spill over, not just yet. And then, out of nowhere, he was screaming:

 

“You-! Have you lost your damn  _ mind _ ?! You just lost so much blood that the doctors said it was a miracle you were even  _ alive _ ! And if it weren’t for Mabel, you wouldn’t be! Did you stop even once to think about her? About  _ me _ ?! You can’t keep doing this - you can’t keep throwing your life away when there are people who- I mean, do you have any idea what I would do if  _ I _ lost  _ you _ ?! Do you?!”

 

Dipper was completely taken aback by that. Norman was actually yelling at him?! But he  _ never _ yelled!

 

"Norman,” Dipper reached out for him again, but couldn’t hold his right arm up for very long. He was too weak. It fell back to the bed. “Norman, it’s okay, you’re okay and I’m here. Just kiss me. Because I love you, and I’d do it all again if it means keeping you safe…”

 

“Dipper, you- you- how  _ could _ you?!” Finally, the tears spilled over, and the medium was bawling. “Y-you can’t do that! You can’t go and throw your life away at the drop of the hat, and then think that you can just throw around words and make it okay again! That  _ isn’t _ how this works!”

 

Despite himself - despite the pain and the fatigue - something about Norman yelling like that made Dipper’s temper flare up. Anger tinged his response:

 

"Throw around words? I’m not ‘throwing around’ anything! I love you more than anything, and I will risk  _ everything _ to keep you safe. If that means my own life - so be it! Better me than you! The world needs you, Norman - those men wouldn’t have come after you if it didn’t! Me? No one needs me!”

 

"Did you really just say that to my face? No one needs you? No one?! You can’t think of  _ one fucking person _ ?!”

 

The two lovers glared at one another. Norman was still crying and shaking. Dipper could feel his face getting hot with fury, but he was still so weak, and could hardly muster up the energy to yell back. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go at all.

 

"I don’t know what you want me to say, Norman,” his voice was quiet. “I really don’t.”

 

Norman looked as if someone had twisted a knife into his chest. “Dipper you-” he started. Hesitated. Began again, quieter, “You are the only person I’ve ever loved. I can’t watch you sacrifice yourself like this over and over. It would kill me. Physically kill me. Can’t you understand that?”

 

Dipper’s temper flared again. What the hell did  _ that _ mean? Was Norman really accusing him of not understanding him? After everything they had been through?!

 

“You think if I died I wouldn’t haunt you?!” He tried to yell again. It made him lightheaded. He pressed on anyway. “You’d still have me around! If you die, I don’t have that - you’re just gone! I won’t let you die, I won’t! Understand  _ that _ , okay?”

 

If Norman had been mad before, now he looked  _ furious _ .

 

"You- You think that’s how it works? You think you can just die and nothing will change? You think we’ll just stay the same? That- _THAT ISN’T WHAT HAPPENS DIPPER!_ ” When he yelled, the lights in the room flickered. His eyes looked more teal than their normal clear blue, and all Dipper’s arm hairs stood up as if he’d just been shocked by lightning. Norman didn’t even seem to notice. “If you die, you’re  _ dead _ ! You can’t hunt mysteries, you can’t put your signature on a lease - we can’t have a life together! And you think- I mean, do you realise I would have to see you every single  _ day _ ?! I would see you and remember what we could have had, and I’d have to live with the regret that I couldn’t save you, and no matter what you said, that would never go away! Never! And I could  _ never _ be happy living like that! Are you honestly trying to tell me that you  could ?!”

 

"I’m telling you it’s better than the alternative-” Dipper began but was cut off again:

 

“ _ STOP IT _ !”

 

The lights flickered more harshly this time. Dipper felt nauseous from it. This time, Norman noticed. The medium forced himself to take a few long, shaky breaths before allowing himself to speak again:

 

“Stop it. Please stop it, Dipper,” he sounded frightened, wouldn’t look his boyfriend in the eyes.  “Just… just imagine for a second that I died, and you were the one who got to see my ghost every day - to live with that constant reminder of failure. It’s… it’s torture. So please, just… just stop. I can’t live like that, Dipper.”

 

Dipper attempted to reach up again, to wipe Norman’s tears away. This time, the younger man let him, too exhausted to pull away.

 

“I… I can’t,” he let his hand fall again. “I can’t stop. Every time I see you in danger, I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I physically  _ can’t _ lose you. I’m sorry for scaring you. But I can’t stop, Norman.”

 

"Then… then maybe I should go,” the medium started for the door. Dipper looked away.

 

“Please,” his voice cracked, “don’t make me beg you to stay. I don’t… I don’t have the strength not to right now…”

 

Norman gave him one last look, his lip trembling and his eyes swimming with fresh tears.  Dipper heard Pacifica’s voice out in the hall, but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

 

“Norman, please don’t leave,” he tried again.

 

Norman went out to Pacifica. Dipper was left alone in the hospital bed, feeling sick to his stomach as he, too, began to cry.

 

“Please…” he begged, even though his boyfriend was no longer there to hear him. “Please don’t leave me alone…”

 

***

 

Norman didn’t know how long it had been - hours? Days? - since their argument. Dipper had gone in and out of another reconstructive surgery. Mabel had gone to give more of her blood to her twin brother. And through it all, Norman had lay in the waiting room, his head in Pacifica’s lap.

 

She didn’t even seem to know what to say to him. Had he fucked up  _ that _ relationship too?

 

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

 

“Pacifica…” he murmured. “Do you hate me?”

 

“ _ What _ ? Why would I- what?” She looked down at him, brows knit together, and he looked away.

 

“You haven’t said anything to me… I wouldn’t blame you if you did…” he sniffled. God, how many tears had he cried in this damn hospital?

 

“Norman, oh my  _ god _ !” she gasped, and he couldn’t help but look back up at her. “Of course I don’t hate you - I love you!”

 

That… couldn’t be right. Pacifica loved him?

 

“You can’t love me…” he muttered. He didn’t deserve her love or Mabel’s love or Dipper’s love.

 

“I can and I will,” she responded stubbornly. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not gonna stop being my best friend just because this stuff is hard or whatever. I just…  I haven’t said anything because I’m really shitty at comforting people, and I’m afraid of making you feel worse!”

 

That surprised him. Her silence hadn’t been about him at all - it’d been about her. It didn’t make sense.

 

“I’m s-sorry for scaring you-”

 

“Okay, no,  _ you _ didn’t scare me. This situation is  _ really _ shitty, but it’s not your fault or whatever. Okay?”

 

“I… okay,” he nodded weakly. Not because he agreed. But because he couldn’t get in another argument. Not with Pacifica. Not when he was certain he’d finally pushed Dipper away from him.

 

She didn’t look convinced. But she didn’t have the opportunity to push it any further, as her girlfriend was walking towards them from where she’d just been in Dipper’s room. And Mabel didn’t look happy.

 

Norman sat up straight out of Pacifica’s lap, fearing the worst.

 

“H-how is he?” He gasped, hating how desperate he sounded.

 

“He’s gonna make it,” Mabel replied, and Norman let himself sigh in relief.

 

“Then what is it?” Pacifica asked. “What’s with that face?”

 

“Tell me it’s not true, Norman,” the brunette girl looked the medium right in the eyes, and Norman felt his heart drop. Mabel was always the happiest out of all of them. If Dipper was going to be okay after all, then why was she looking at him like that? “Tell me you’re not going to break up with my brother…”

 

“Wait,  _ what _ ?!” Pacifica turned her head sharply to gape at Norman, who now felt more confused than anything else. Why was Mabel asking him  _ that _ ?

 

“O-of course I’m not!” He shook his head vehemently. 

 

(Even if Dipper  _ would _ probably be better off without him. If only he wasn’t so weak and needy! But he pushed that thought from his mind.)

 

“He said you said you were going to  _ leave _ !” Mabel exclaimed.

 

Norman was even more confused by that, until he remembered the argument. Something clicked in his head. Dipper had completely misunderstood him, and he felt  _ horrible _ about it. He couldn’t do anything right, could he?

 

“Did you really say that?” Pacifica’s voice prodded.

 

“What?! No! Jesus, no!” The medium shook his head even more. “I mean, yes, I said that, but I meant- I didn’t mean I’d  _ leave _ him… I just meant I had to leave the room… he was upset, and things were getting too heated…”

 

( _ Norman _ was getting too heated, too volatile - too dangerous. He’d left for Dipper’s safety.)

 

“Oh, thank god,” Mabel threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around him. “I was so worried I was gonna lose part of my family…”

 

Of all the things she could have said,  _ that _ threw Norman the most.

 

Mabel didn’t think he was a monster at all. Sweet, innocent, happy Mabel still considered him part of her  _ family _ .

 

He wasn’t quite sure he deserved that. But it was still almost nice to know the girls didn’t hate him.

 

But did Dipper?

 

Norman couldn’t go on much longer like this. He couldn’t let Dipper suffer anymore because of him. He had to fix what little of the situation that even  _ could _ be fixed. Not for himself; he didn’t deserve that. But for Dipper, who deserved the whole world.

 

“Mabel,” he squirmed under her touch a little, “is… is he awake?”

 

*** 

 

Dipper was restless. 

 

He hated being bedridden. He hated the idea that Norman was mad at him. And he hated the US government for doing this to them. 

 

“There has to be something I can do…” he muttered to himself, trying and failing to come up with a plan. If he could just figure out how to clear his name - and Norman’s - they could get their lives back on track. 

 

And maybe then he’d have a chance to keep Norman in his life. To not lose him.

 

He couldn’t lose him. He’d lost too much already. He  _ refused _ to lose Norman, too.

 

“Oh my god,” he groaned to no one in particular, letting his head fall back a little on the hard, uncomfortable hospital pillow. “If I could just talk to him one more time…”

 

“What would you say?” A second voice in the room surprised him.

 

Dipper turned his head and gasped when he saw his boyfriend walking in, sitting in the chair by the bed as if nothing had happened between him.

 

“Norman, you- you didn’t  _ leave _ ?!”

 

“I wasn’t ever going to leave,” Norman looked hesitant, almost-scared, like he was trying to talk himself into something. Then, quickly and shyly, he grabbed Dipper’s right hand. 

 

The older man squeezed reassuringly, anything to keep Norman here.

 

“But you were so mad. You said-”

 

“I’m sorry I made you think that,” the medium clenched his eyes shut for a second, dropping his head into his free hand. Dipper wanted so badly to kiss the burns and cuts on his head better. “I just meant I had to leave the room. I couldn’t get mad like that. God, I… I’m so sorry, Dip…”

 

“Norman?” He kept his voice gentle as he spoke, “you’re allowed to get mad, you know. You’re allowed to talk to me about things.”

 

The younger man didn’t look up. He didn’t seem convinced. Dipper sighed.

 

“Look,” he tried again, “obviously neither of us wants to be here. The whole Roswell thing didn’t go as planned, and I’m sorry about that-”

 

“What?” That was what made Norman look back up at him. “Dipper, it’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have predicted that!”

 

“Well, then, it isn’t your fault either!”

 

The medium’s expression changed to that of a guilty child, and Dipper knew he’d stumbled upon something.

 

“Norman, I love you, okay? That means I want you to  _ talk _ to me.”

 

“It’s not that simple…”

 

“Why not?” He bit back the urge to raise his voice, keeping it soft and low. “I’ve loved you for years, Norman. I’m still gonna love you even when stuff gets bad. You… when I wanted to chase aliens, you came along with me even though you didn’t believe in any of that stuff. You went on the run with me, you followed me across the nation, so I wouldn’t have to be alone. That works both ways…  _ You _ don’t have to be alone either…”

 

The exhaustion of the situation seemed to catch up to Norman all at once, and he fell forward so he was leaning onto the bed too, head right by Dipper’s as his face crumbled and fresh tears began to flow. All Dipper could do was move his right arm awkwardly to pet his back.

 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Norman confessed. “I’m not strong enough...”

 

The older man felt his heart twist up when he realised just how  _ broken _ his boyfriend sounded. 

 

“Then let me be strong for you. If we’re gonna get through this, we’re gonna get through this together, okay?” He was determined now. For Norman. “If we succeed, we succeed together. If we go down, we go down fighting, but we fight  _ together _ . Can you promise me that?”

 

“T-together…” Norman seemed to be considering it. Then, to Dipper’s intense relief, he nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry, Dipper. I… I’ll try.”

 

“That’s all I’m asking, Norm.”

 

“And we’ll be there for both of you, too, if you’ll let us,” a third voice sounded from the doorway. Dipper didn’t even have to look up to know his sister and Pacifica were entering the room. Mabel continued, “So stop thinking it’s just you two against the world, okay? Paz and I wanna help! We’re the Mystery Quartet. We’re a  _ family _ . Let us help, too...”

 

Looking into his sister’s big, brown eyes - so like his own, and yet so different - Dipper couldn’t help but nod. If it wasn’t for Mabel and Pacifica, he and Norman might very well be dead. And if he was being honest with himself, he was going to need all the help he could get while he healed.

 

For the first time in the entire time they’d been there, Mabel smiled.

 

“Yes!” She pumped her fist. “The Mystery Quartet is back in action!”

 

And despite himself - despite the pain - Dipper couldn’t help but smile, too.

 

It was nice to finally have a reminder what hope felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I'd actually kill him off, did you?


	14. Sagittarius

_???????? _

 

Norman found himself in a dark forest, under trees that looked more like jagged black glass shards than anything alive, under rolling chartreuse clouds and a chilly wind that smelled like ashes and decay.

 

He recognised it immediately, and his heart started pounding, threatening to jump into his throat and out of his mouth. This was not the forest behind Blithe Hollow, or the forest surrounding Gravity Falls, but the forest that had plagued his nightmares, night after night, so many years ago.

 

“No,” he shook his head, feeling his fingers starting to tremble. “No, no, no… not again, not this again, not again…”

 

"̶̯͚͎̱̪A̦͙͎̕ren͖͓̜͈ͅ'̗̗͎̟̜͟t̪̮͈ ̢̥̠̠͍̤̠y̪̣̟̘̦̹̩o͔͞ͅu͏ ̜̲͙͟g̶̙͕̖̩ͅo̧͇̗͙̘͚i̝̻͔n̨͙g͇̟͈̝͘ ͜t͘o̩̫̘ͅ r͟ù̼͔̳n̙͡,̟̱̩̠̝͙ͅ ̣͓̮͕͇L͡i̵̪̦̠̪t̹̟̼̥̘ͅt͏͖͓̯͚͔͉l̴e̼͓̦̭ ͙̼̘̟G̜͎̠̯̫̦h̤o̞̥s̼̹̩̪̣͞t̯̖͎?̥͓"̷̳̘͈̬̤̫

 

“L-leave me  _ alone _ , Bill!” he cried out, dropping to his knees, trying to block out that awful voice. It was no use. It surrounded him, blanketed him like smoke, got into his ears and seeped into his skull. There was no escape from that sound.

 

"̶̹̗̖͇̤Ṉ̲͖̜́o̪͍͍w̗̺͕͎̺,̟͕̲̠ ̭͙͚͝ņo̬͇͍̫̭̻ͅw͕̗̤, ̠͎L̴̼i̺̮̼̺̖̬̥t͖̤̞̜t̤͖l̜̫̪̣ḙ̡̪̥̫͔͙ ͉̳G̖̜̝̭̬̻͙h̪̤͡os̬̝̝t̘͔̦.̻̲ ̻̹I̬̣̝̪̞͢s͓̩͓͈̝̱͡ t̨̥̞̲͔h̠͇͎͚̭͉͎ạ͓̹͇̙̜͢t̯͇̥ ̗͈̪a̻̜͚͙͇n͖y̱͉͕ ̢͔̻̞͕̤̖̪w͍̬̤͔a̮̲̻͖̘y ̟͙to ͏͈̘͍̜͙̹ͅt͢a̫l͈̤̙k͙̱ ̝͔͟t̵̘͎̪͙̥̣ͅo̡ ̟̪͇̦̤͉͡a̩̣̳̻͞n̸̼̣̭͖̭ ̘o̬̫ld͓͔̯̞̘̩̕ ̛f̮r̴̮i̗͈̮̯̤e͏̻n̜̲̭d̻͇?̙̜͎̗̗͞"͓̭̻̯̘ͅ

 

“Stop it! Stop it, please! Please just… just leave me alone…”

 

He knew there was no use. It didn’t matter how much he begged or ran. Bill would never stop.

 

Footsteps sounded behind him, snapping twigs on the forest floor. Norman didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see whatever horrible illusion Bill had in store for him. 

 

He looked anyway.

 

Agent Collins stood over him, with bright yellow eyes and a grin too wide for his face. He didn’t speak in Bill’s true voice, the one whispering and screaming all at once in the trees, but in the shrill, high-pitched one that the triangular beast used with everyone else:

 

“You’re beginning to try my patience, kid. Didn’t I tell you before the darkness would come? Don’t you know you can’t stop it? You can keep running from state to state to state, but what’s the point? I’m going to find you. I’m going to get my hands on that…  _ delicious _ power of yours.”

 

“I won’t let you,” Norman glared. 

 

“You don’t have a  _ choice _ ,” Agent Collin’s body began to decay before Norman’s eyes, skin rotting away to reveal the bones underneath until they fell to the forest floor, leaving only Bill in their place, floating menacingly before him. “ _ You’re _ the one who broke the terms of our deal! Not me!”

 

“I-! I didn’t-! I...” the medium sputtered, shaking his head.

 

Bill’s eye widened, pupil rolling back to reveal the image of Norman - a much younger Norman - exhausted and panting, begging to anyone who would listen:

 

_ “Please stop… I’ll do anything…” _

 

The real Norman - the adult one - clenched his fists.

 

“You’re the one who set those terms, Little Ghost. So why keep running? Why bother? Your power belongs to  _ me _ .”

 

“I won’t let you-”

 

“And how do you plan to stop me? By killing more innocent men?” Bill’s eye flickered to another image, that of a woman and a young girl at a funeral. Agent Shaw’s funeral. Norman felt sick. “You took that man away from his daughter - you know she starts kindergarten soon? Or she would, if the world wasn’t going to end before then!”

 

Bill started laughing his terribly shrill laugh. Norman covered his ears, but it didn’t help.

 

“Face it, Little Ghost - you’re no better than I am! You’re a freak!”

 

“Stop it,” he pleaded.

 

“A murderer!” Bill didn’t stop.

 

“St-stop…”

 

"̖͖̮Y̞̖͘o̴̙̰͔͇u͓̖̮̼̫̹ͅ'̖r̢͔̤̱e ͇̞͚̦̻a̹̝̖͙̙͙ ̵͚m̰̟̹̼͢on͙ṣ̼t͍͍͈̥̭ę̩̜̻̭̞̥r̟̘̬̞!̵͔̪̣"̫͔̜̬̭̗͡

 

The laughter got louder and more monstrous, like the very sounds of Hell itself. 

 

"͕͎̳͔͓̞̥R̷̜͎̺͉̤ú̱̞̦͙͚̺ṋ͚̺̬̙ ̡̩̺͚̫̟̫̲a̹̣̻̺͓͖l̸̺͙l̵͙ y̬̣̞̫͖o̕u͕͈͚ ̖̳͖ͅw̭͍̲̥̼ḁ̴͉ͅn̩͍͎͙̺͡t̮̦ͅ ̢̳̬͙̹-̲̲͝ ͍͔͔̳ͅy̙̖̟̯̩ơ̟̯̝̤u̺̬͙͞ ͙̫̠̼̥̘c̱̳̰͙͙̕ḁ̺͇̫̙ͅn͚'̬̩̩̀t̳͈̮ ͚̫̦ͅs̮t̸͔o͕͈͚̜̖p̙̞͇̟͜ͅ ̧̘̻͍̯̰̞ṭ͉̘hę̖͎͈͔̼͉ͅ ͇͉̦̹̬͚d̯̤a̧̖̭͈̙̝r͔͔̻͉̝k̯͎n̤̗e̷̠̘̠̙̗ͅș̠s̸̤̯̱̼̼͈!̮͖͢"̲̪͉

 

Norman pressed his hands to his ears more and more. Nothing helped. Nothing could take away from the terrible sound, from the horrible feeling that Bill was  _ right _ .

 

Maybe… maybe he couldn’t stop it. Maybe it was inevitable.

 

But what about Dipper? 

 

He couldn’t let anything happen to Dipper, he couldn’t…

 

Bill laughed even louder, responding as if he could read Norman’s mind:

 

"̵̙̲̳̹ͅY̫̘o̤u͕̱̠̗ ̳͔̘̪͉̖͞t̤̳͎͍̱h̜i̡͕̫͎͔n͈̗̩̲̥̦͝k̬͙̭̼ ͈̰̝P̠̪͕̣͎i̤̩n͉͕̘͠ͅe ͈̞Ṭͅr̛̰͎̩̤͈̰͙e͇͉̟̥̭̼ẹ̤̱̘̤ͅͅ i͔s̟͍̗̭͇̥͘ ̹̜̹re͡a̡ļl͖̩͠y̢͔͙͚͙̜ g̲̜̠̙̻̘͟o̧͔i̱̟͔͓̭͈n̦̙̮̪͔̹͈g͉͉̱ ͢t̙̤͙o̸͚͎̗̘ ͘s҉t̗̯̤̼̱͈i̡̝̹̦̗̙l͏̤l̷͔ ̷͓l̯̯̣o͘v̦̯̜̰̝͚͕e̴̜̬̪̪̮ ̘̠͉̭ͅy̧̦̻̱͓ͅo̢͙̟u̢̺̳ ̡̺̤̩̰̙͎ͅw̗͈̗̭͍h̯͈̀ęn̫̺̪̲ ̣͟h͉̱͟e̸̲̝ͅ ͓̗͠f͚̘̭͎͝i̸͚͚̩n̢d̪̬̩̗̤͘s̲̺͈ ̬̪͔͕̗o̵͖̠͙̯̗̣̳u̼̥̝̘t̺̘̺̜ ͘w̶h͇̘̮͞a͕͎͕͎͔͕t͖͜ ̟̖y̱̪̪̫̙o̡̥̱̯u͕̱̣͉̗̟̗ ̙̻d̨͔ḭ̱͉̰͖̞́d̻̫͇̞̮͔?͙̼͖͘ ̪̹A͏̖̖̞̳̦c͓̜͙̭c҉̬̬̱̫ͅep̹ţ̰̦͇̲̱ ͎̠̣̤̲͢i̸̻t̼̬̤̯̻̱, ̡̺L̝͎̝̳̘̟̻i̲t͙͍̞̦̯̹̯t̢͍̞̪̘̤̦l̦̻̹̜e ͍̳͕͙̞̟͈͘G̭̣͓̭h̘͚̻o̲̜͎̠̬s͖̻̬͍̕ṱ͍̹͖̣͟ ͉̻̭̙̬͉-̻̹͔̦̩ ̳̦̱̞̖ͅy̯̯͈̣̥o̢̬̘̬̼u̦͙̱͎̲'r̰̫̻̯e̯͢ ̣M̨͉̳͎͔͍̞̖I͉͈͞N̖̖̜͝E̕ ͉͎͚̖͇͢ṋ̣̗͔͉̠̀o̶̹̲̜̙̗w͓̰̭̕!̻̩͍́"̥̯͈̭̕

 

Norman didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t have the words to argue. He didn’t have it in him to even  _ try _ and convince himself otherwise, let alone to convince Bill Cipher.

 

So he did the only thing he had left.

 

He screamed.

 

***

 

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Pacifica hadn’t been sleeping well since getting back into the states.

 

Mabel had been putting on a big show of getting the apartment ready for her beloved “ChristmaHanuSolstiYule”, chirping happily about the Mystery Quartet being together for the holidays again. And Pacifica knew this was mostly a front. She knew Mabel well enough by now, she knew it was mostly a show for Dipper’s sake.

 

Still, she wished - not for the first time - that she could be more like Mabel. She wished that she could smile and laugh and sing seasonal songs, that she could even  _ pretend _ things were in any way okay.

 

She wished that she could forget the sound of shattering glass and the strain in her arms as she pulled her best friend, broken and bloody, to the ground while he lied to her.

 

(“It was an accident,” his voice, so small and fearful, played over and over again in her head. It was a defense she’d used herself as a very small child in attempts to avoid that god-awful bell. She knew for a fact it was a lie.)

 

“Pacifica…” Mabel’s voice was a welcome distraction from the noises playing in her head - Norman’s lie, the shattering glass, the bells of her childhood. 

 

The blonde didn’t turn to face her girlfriend, choosing to remain facing the wall as she lay in a ball, wide awake in their bed.

 

Mabel pressed up to her back, draping an arm over her and putting her lips near Pacifica’s ears.

 

“Paz… I know you’re awake,” she murmured. “The boys are  safe now. It’ll all be okay. I  _ promise _ it’ll all be okay.”

 

It wasn’t okay. Pacifica wished she could tell Mabel it wasn’t even a little bit okay, but Norman had begged her not to tell the brunette girl. 

 

And even if he  _ hadn’t _ , what would she say? What  _ could _ she say? The thing was, she almost understood why he’d done it. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she was being accused of terrorism and Mabel was the one half-dead in a hospital bed. She didn’t blame Norman for feeling hopeless. She just wished she could take it away, the way Mabel would surely be able to, if only she were allowed to know!

 

“Paz,” Mabel spoke again, “please talk to me. I want to help!”

 

“There’s nothing to say,” she muttered numbly. “I’m just not tired. Too much hot chocolate.”

 

Her girlfriend sighed right into her ear. Then, she chirped with that same saccharine over-exaggerated happiness she’d been using with Dipper and Norman:

 

“Santa won’t come unless you’re asleep, you know!”

 

“It isn’t Christmas until next week, you dork,” the blonde responded. She hated that Mabel felt she had to fake it with her, too. “And I haven’t believed in Santa Claus since I was, like, five.”

 

“Don’t tell  _ him _ that,” Mabel joked, as if trying to get her girlfriend to laugh.

 

“Please stop…” Pacifica muttered.

 

“Stop what?”

 

“Stop acting like we can just have a normal holiday when the government can swoop in here at any moment with a search warrant and take them away again!” She hadn’t meant to snap. She knew Mabel only wanted to help everyone. But now that she’d started, the blonde couldn’t stop. “Dipper almost  _ died _ , Mabel! Norman is completely freaked over it, and I don’t know what to do about any of it, and  _ none _ of this is okay!”

 

“I- I know that…” Mabel answered weakly. “And… I don’t know what to do either…”

 

Pacifica opened her mouth to respond to that. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she wasn’t going to fail Mabel the way she’d failed Norman.

 

She never got the chance to find out what she would have said. 

 

Because at that exact moment, a gut-wrenching scream came from the guest room. 

 

The girls exchanged frightened looks before getting up in unison and bolting towards the bedroom door.

 

***

 

Dipper was awoken by the sound of screaming.

 

At first, he was confused by it, disoriented as he tried to remember where they were now. (That’s right, they were back in San Francisco, in Mabel’s apartment - his sister had  _ insisted _ on taking them there when he finally got discharged from the hospital in Quebec.)

 

As soon as he realised it was  _ Norman _ screaming like that, his terror increased tenfold.

 

“N-Norman!” he gasped, bolting straight up and grabbing his boyfriend with his good arm. He wished his left arm wasn’t still in a cast, it was hard to hold Norman to his chest with only the right arm, but he did it anyway, muffling the screams and pleading with his boyfriend, “Norman, it’s a nightmare. You’re having a nightmare, wake up, please wake up!”

 

Norman thrashed against him, as if trying to push away, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He didn’t wake up. He just kept screaming himself raw, in a full-blown panic. Dipper had never seen him like this. Why wasn’t he waking up!?

 

“What the fuck is going on?!” Pacifica’s voice sounded from the doorway, and Dipper snapped his head up. Over the top of Norman’s hair he could see the blonde and his sister standing before him, looking just as horrified as he felt.

 

“I-I don’t know!” He exclaimed over the screams. “I don’t know, he just- he won’t stop! Norman, wake up! It’s okay! You’re safe!”

 

The screams began to die down, fading into soft little pained moans. Every single one made Dipper’s heart shatter more and more.

 

“...Norman?” Mabel took a step towards the bed.

 

“H-he’s back,” Norman clung to the fabric of Dipper’s shirt, sobbing softly into his chest. He’d woken up in tears. “He’s back… he…”

 

“Back?” Dipper pulled him closer to the best of his ability with only one arm. “Who?! Who’s back?! N-no one’s here, it’s just me and Mabel and Pacifica! Norman, you were just having a nightmare!”

 

“N-no, he’s  _ back _ !” the medium protested weakly through the sobs.

 

“ _ Dipper _ ,” Mabel hissed, and he whipped his head back up towards his twin again. Her eyes were blown wide, and she looked a little pale as she held up her hands, making two ‘L’ shapes with her fingers and thumbs and joining them together to form a triangle.

 

The implication was clear, and Dipper immediately went stiff.

 

“No…” he whispered weakly, holding Norman a little tighter. “Bill can’t be back. That’s not possible. We- we  _ defeated _ him! How can he be back?!”

 

Norman didn’t respond at first. The only noises that came from him were weak little sobs. Then, quietly…

 

“He’s… A-Agent Collins is… he’s back…”

 

“Agent Collins is  _ Bill Cipher _ ?!” Dipper yelped, feeling his boyfriend nod miserably against his chest. “But that means…”

 

Bill Cipher had infiltrated the FBI. Bill Cipher had tracked them down in Roswell and ordered them arrested in order to- what? To try and kill Norman by stealing his lightning powers or something?! 

 

It didn’t make sense. And yet, at the same time, it made too much sense. After all, Bill would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

 

“I- I won’t let him get you,” Dipper whispered. “Not this time, Norman. Nothing’s gonna happen-”

 

“Stop  _ lying _ !” The younger man pushed away from Dipper’s chest, sitting up straighter to look his boyfriend in the eyes with tears streaming down his face. “Stop lying to me! Stuff is already  _ happening _ , Dipper - he’s going to find us. He’s going to find  _ me _ !”

 

The older man didn’t know what to say. His boyfriend was clearly terrified, and with Bill sending him nightmares again, what could Dipper possibly do?

 

Norman collapsed into his chest again, and all he could do was hold him there and wait for the sobs to fade.

 

As if on cue, the girls both climbed into the bed. To Dipper’s surprise, it was Pacifica who put her arms around Norman first, although Mabel followed suit almost immediately. Their faces were wet with tears as well.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Normy,” Mabel whispered into one of the medium’s big ears. “I don’t know how, but it  _ will _ be. We’re  _ all _ here for you, okay? We defeated him together last time. We’ll do it again.”

 

Norman didn’t respond. But his terrible sobs finally began to fade as sheer exhaustion took over.

 

***

 

Dipper had no idea when he had fallen asleep. But he woke up the next morning in a tangle of arms and legs. Somehow, over the course of the night, Mabel had ended up behind him, spooning her brother with a leg sprawled over him and Norman, who was lying on his back with his head tilted towards Dipper. Pacifica was curled into the medium’s side.

 

He tried to stay quiet and still so Norman could sleep in a little more. But somehow, Norman always knew when Dipper was awake, and so it wasn’t long until he was awake as well, followed by Pacifica and, finally, Mabel.

 

After Mabel made them all coffee, it was she who decided:

 

“Alright, time for full-on Mystery Quartet mode!”

 

“What?” Dipper frowned over his cup of coffee. Mabel had put  _ far _ too much sugar in it, as usual. He appreciated the caffeine boost anyway, especially after the night they had just had.

 

“ _ Duh _ , we’re gonna figure this all out together,” his sister was, in contrast to the previous night, back to her smiley self. Dipper suspected it was at least partially for Norman’s benefit. “You like making plans, Dippin’ Dots! So! Let’s plan!”

 

Dipper tried to exchange glances with Pacifica and Norman, but Pacifica was giving Mabel a  _ Look _ , and Norman wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. None of the other three spoke. 

 

Mabel’s grin faltered for a split second, and for just a moment Dipper thought he caught a glimmer of fear in her eyes. If it weren’t for the sudden pang of guilt in his chest, though, he would have wondered if he’d imagined it - less than a second later, she was smiling even wider.

 

“Come on! We can  _ do _ this, you guys! If we work  _ together _ , we can come up with a plan to stop Bill, clear your names with the FBI, and have a good old-fashioned Mystery Quartet ChristmaHanuSolstiYule celebration.”

 

Dipper groaned out loud.

 

“Maybe Norman and I should just go…”

 

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” This time, Mabel’s smile dropped entirely. “You- you  can’t go! You’re safe here.”

 

“Yeah, but for how long? A government agent came to your door looking for us - what’s to stop them from doing it again? Especially if they’re working with Bill. Or  _ for _ Bill, I don’t know!”

 

“He’ll stop at nothing,” Norman chimed in, still not looking up. His voice sounded so small and numb. Dipper watched Pacifica reach for his hand, which seemed to surprise the medium, before draping his good arm around him. (That seemed to surprise Norman even more. Dipper wasn’t sure why.)

 

“Then Paz and I will stop at nothing to help you two kick his ass,” Mabel pouted stubbornly.

 

“Mabel, this isn’t a goofy cartoon or a video game or whatever,” Dipper tried again. “They’re after us. Bill has got them convinced we’re threats to national security. I won’t have you and Pacifica dragged into all of this.”

 

“Oh, that is  _ such _ bullshit, Dipper,” Pacifica responded with her typical impatience. “We’re  _ already _ ‘dragged into’ this mess, so you might as well just let us help!”

 

“Pacifica,” he sighed, “you of all people should appreciate that I’m trying to save you from things that can seriously hurt you.”

 

“ _ Save _ me?” The blonde arched an eyebrow. “As if! If you think we’re gonna let you two just march off into danger and leave us here worrying, then I have got news for you!”

 

“I will handcuff you to this bed, Dip,” Mabel chimed in. “Don’t test me!”

 

That last response left him so taken aback that he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Wh-why do you own handcuffs?”

 

Mabel and Pacifica exchanged looks.

 

“Do you  _ really _ want me to answer that?” The brunette woman gave her brother a meaningful look.

 

Catching her implication, his face got hot and he grimaced:

 

“Oh,  _ gross _ ! Gross, gross, gross!”

 

Mabel just grinned triumphantly. Dipper brought his mug up to his face to drown out his disgust with more coffee, only to find he’d drank it all. Grumbling, he stood up.

 

“I’m going to get more coffee. I’ll come back when you’re done being  _ disgusting _ .”

 

Mabel responded to that by giggling, and nudging Norman playfully. The medium snorted, but otherwise didn’t react.

 

Heavyhearted, Dipper left the room.

 

Mabel and Pacifica’s apartment was so different than the motel rooms he had grown accustomed to as of late. It was weird to have to go into a whole new room to get coffee, to not be able to turn around and shoot a small smile to a bed where Norman sat.

 

He sighed as he poured himself a new cup, leaving it black instead of drowning it out with creamer and sugar. 

 

“Dipper?”

 

The voice behind him surprised him, and he turned around, eyebrows raised.

 

Pacifica stood before him, looking more vulnerable and unsure of herself than Dipper had ever seen her. Her eyes were darting back and forth, the area beneath them dark and puffy, and her arms were crossed in front of her chest as her shoulders hunched forward a little bit.

 

“We…” she began. Sighed. Began again, “We need to talk about Norman…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My stepdad once told me the true definition of a friend was one who would cry not for you, but with you. Mabel and Pacifica are true friends.


	15. Capricorn

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

“We need to talk about Norman…”

 

At the sound of those six words, Dipper felt his stomach clench up completely. He set his coffee mug down on the counter - suddenly, it didn’t seem very appetising. Besides, his hands were already beginning to sweat. He would have dropped the mug soon.

 

“Wh-what about him?” He tried his best to sound calm. He really did.

 

Pacifica didn’t answer at first. She wouldn’t even look up at him, pursing her lips as she retreated further into herself.

 

His mind and pulse both began to race. There was no way this was going to be something good, like Pacifica asking what to get Norman for Christmas or something. What was wrong? Why wouldn’t the blonde just spit it out? Why did she always have to make everything so  _ complicated _ ?

 

“Well, what  _ is _ it?” This time, he couldn’t help but allow some panic into his voice, making it high pitched and demanding.

 

“It’s about the cuts on his face,” Pacifica blurted out.

 

“The ones he got from that ‘facility’?” Now, confusion was added into the anxiety swirling in Dipper’s stomach. Why was Pacifica worried about the cuts and not the burns? They’d put neosporin on them, they’d done everything they could to keep them from getting infected-

 

“That’s  _ not _ where he got them,” she interrupted his racing thoughts. 

 

“Don’t be dumb. Of course it’s where he-”

 

“Dipper, I saw him! He did it to himself!” Now, tears sprang to Pacifica’s eyes, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “In the hospital, he… we didn’t know if you were ever going to wake up and he ran to the bathroom and I followed him, and there was a loud crash, and- and- his head, he was, like,  _ bashing _ it into the mirror, and he told me not to tell Mabel, and I don’t know what to  _ do _ about it!”

 

Dipper had been expecting something bad. But nothing could have prepared him for this. Breath getting quicker, he sank to the floor, afraid that his shaking legs wouldn’t be able to hold him up.

 

“You’re wrong,” he shook his head, clenching his fists. “Norman wouldn’t- he wouldn’t  _ do _ that.”

 

Pacifica sat next to him on the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and sniffling pathetically.

 

“I wish I was wrong,” she said, somewhat bitterly.

 

Panic took him over entirely, and suddenly he could feel himself hyperventilating, he could feel his heart trying to pump itself right out of his ribcage. Everything around him was strangely warm and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and his chest and throat were closing up as the room seemed to be closing in on him and he couldn’t breathe. 

 

How long had this been going on behind his back? How long had Norman been  _ hurting _ himself? Was it  _ his _ fault for pushing Norman into this hopeless situation and getting the government on their tail until Bill Cipher showed up? Was he not good enough for Norman? Maybe if he’d been better at loving him, maybe if he’d tried harder to get Norman to open up to him… he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t  _ breathe _ !

 

“Dipper!” He was vaguely aware of Pacifica’s tear-streaked face in front of his, of her hands on his shoulders. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dipper,  _ breathe _ ! I’ve been saying your name for, like, five minutes!”

 

“I can’t,” he shook his head, bringing a sweating, shaky hand up to cling to her arms. He was certain, in that moment, that if he let go of her he’d fall through the floor into the apartment below. “I can’t, I can’t, it’s all my fault...”

 

Pacifica bit her lip, didn’t say anything.

 

He knew it. She agreed it was all his fault, he was  _ sure _ of it.

 

“It is, isn’t it?!” he demanded. “Oh god, where did I go wrong? How am I going to  _ fix _ it?! Or is it too late? No, no, it can’t be, I can’t - oh my god, Norman, no no no…”

 

“Dipper,  _ stop _ ! Freaking out isn’t going to help him.”

 

She was right, of course. Even in his panicked state, he knew that.

 

He forced himself - through sheer stubbornness - to slow his breathing, silently counting to four in his head to do so:  _ ‘Breathe in - 1, 2, 3, 4 - and out - 1, 2, 3, 4.’ _

 

The dizziness began to subside and the room stopped spinning. But he didn’t feel any better. Not when Norman had done something so awful.

 

“I didn’t mean to-  _ ugh _ , this situation is such a mess!” Pacifica wiped her face off. She was still crying a little, so it was an ultimately useless gesture, but she seemed to draw a small amount of satisfaction from doing it. “For what it’s worth… I didn’t tell you because I  _ blamed _ you for it or whatever.”

 

“You didn’t?”

 

“No! God, Dip, what kind of a person do you think I am?” She let out a long, shuddering sigh, tucking some of her hair behind one of her ears.  “I’m just  _ worried _ about him. I want to help him, but I don’t even know where to begin! I guess I just… I don’t know, I hoped you might…”

 

“So… so you want me to talk to him about it?” Dipper asked.

 

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I don’t know what I want. I just… had to tell someone.”

 

He nodded. That, at least, he could understand.

 

“He won’t do it again,” he said. “I’ll do better by him. I’ll protect him, and I’ll watch over him until he doesn’t want to hurt himself like that anymore.”

 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Pacifica frowned.

 

But Dipper was determined. He had to do  _ something _ to make this right.

 

Otherwise, what good was he?

 

***

 

Dipper was looking at him differently.

 

At first, Norman had tried to convince himself he was imagining it. The last few hours had been a whirlwind, after all. The Mystery Quartet followed Mabel’s lead from trying to plan how to defeat Bill, to preparing for the upcoming holidays, and back to Bill again.

 

But there was no mistaking it. No matter what they were doing, every time he caught Dipper’s eye, the older man would be staring at him, as expressive as ever, with that saddened look in his warm brown eyes.

 

Part of him just wanted to pull Dipper aside, to ask him once and for all if his boyfriend was beginning to see that this was all Norman’s fault. After all, Norman was the one Bill Cipher wanted, not Dipper. And Dipper wasn’t stupid -  _ surely _ , he had to be figuring that out, didn’t he?

 

Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe Dipper was afraid because he had seen Norman  _ spark _ like that. Maybe he was beginning to question if Norman was dangerous. He couldn’t blame Dipper for questioning that. How would the older man react to finding out he’d taken a life? 

 

But maybe that wasn’t it either. Norman’s head felt like it was spinning around and around as his brain tried to settle on one reason Dipper could be looking at him like that. Was he disappointed with Norman for being such a crybaby at the hospital? Did he blame Norman for what had happened with his arm? Should he just consider turning himself into the FBI in exchange for Dipper’s freedom, so he could just go back home to New York? Dipper deserved better than this, didn’t he?

 

( _ ‘Dipper deserves better than you,’ _ his thoughts whispered in the back of his mind. He didn’t even bother to block it out.)

 

He couldn’t bring himself to ask about it, though. It was one thing to suspect he was a burden. It would be another thing entirely to actually hear Dipper say that. Norman didn’t think he could handle that. He wasn’t strong enough.

 

“So… Your original plan was to go public with all that alien stuff,” Mabel’s voice snapped Norman out of his thoughts for just a second. He was grateful for the distraction. The brunette girl was mixing up a bowl of cookie dough while they tried to come up with some sort of plan, figuring she could multitask. “Why is that a bad thing now?”

 

Dipper had been staring at Norman again. The medium watched as his eyes went back up to Mabel. He  _ watched _ his boyfriend’s expression change. Dipper wasn’t looking at Mabel the same way he was looking at Norman. Why  _ was _ that?

 

“That was before we knew Bill was in the picture,” Dipper answered his sister. “I thought if the secret got out, people would take our side or something, and that would stop the FBI from trying to catch us. But Bill doesn’t care what people think! He never has!”

 

“He wants me,” Norman muttered. “Maybe if I just-”

 

“That’s  _ not _ an option, Norman,” the older man faced him again, with that damn  look back in his eyes. “You promised me in Quebec, remember? If we go down, we go down together.”

 

The medium drew his knees up into his chest, curling into a little ball on the edge of the couch. He didn’t want to look back up at Dipper after that, didn’t want him to snap or be mad at him, even if he had every right to be.

 

The curiosity got the best of him, however, and he looked up just in time to see Dipper’s face fall a little. As if he were  _ disappointed _ in him for even daring to suggest that. He looked back down again. He didn’t want to see Dipper’s disappointment anymore.

 

(Norman was beginning to think he couldn’t do anything right.)

 

“Nobody is going down,” Pacifica said. “How- how did we defeat him last time? Can’t we just do that again?”

 

“Yeah, I can die again,” Norman failed to bite back a quiet, sardonic mumble under his breath. “No big deal.”

 

The room went silent. Even the sounds of Mabel stirring the cookie dough stopped. 

 

Confused by this, Norman forced himself to look up - only to see three sets of eyes staring at him,  _ horrified _ .

 

Shit. The others had heard that.

 

“I-” he sputtered, not wanting Dipper to snap at him again, “I didn’t mean- I’m s-sorry, I…”

 

Dipper had that  _ look _ again. Norman curled in on himself a little more, wishing he could make himself disappear into the couch cushions. He wasn’t going to talk anymore, he decided. Not when everything he said was only upsetting Dipper more.

 

“There’s  _ gotta _ be a way,” Mabel broke the uncomfortable silence, setting down her bowl to come sit on the coffee table in front of the boys. She placed one hand on Dipper’s knee and the other on Norman’s. She still smelled like cookie dough. “There’s just gotta. Maybe the journals have something? We’ve defeated him, what, three times before now?”

 

“And he keeps coming back stronger every time,” Dipper argued. “And I don’t even  _ have _ the journal anymore, Mabel! It was in the van when we got arrested!”

 

“You do know we have your ugly van parked in the garage downstairs, right?” Pacifica frowned.

 

Judging by the look on Dipper’s face, he hadn’t known that.

 

“There was a police auction in Nevada,” the blonde explained. “Had to fly down there when you two were unconscious and threaten to sue since technically it’s legally mine, since  _ I _ bought it for you.”

 

Even Norman looked up at that. That was right, Pacifica  _ had _ paid for it. And probably for their hospital bills too. She and Mabel had airlifted them all the way to Canada so they wouldn’t be arrested, they’d smuggled them back into America, they’d retrieved their van and welcomed the boys into their apartment… 

 

The girls had done too much for him and Dipper. It wasn’t fair to them.

 

The conversation was rather rudely interrupted by a series of threatening knocks on the door. The Quartet froze completely, holding their breath.

 

“Open up! FBI! We have a search warrant!” A voice called from the other side of the door. Mabel and Pacifica exchanged wide-eyed looks.

 

“ _ Hide _ ,” Mabel hissed at her brother. 

 

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Dipper jumped up from the couch and pulled Norman with his good hand towards the guest bedroom. He was holding a little too tightly in his panic - it would probably leave a bruise - but the medium didn’t dare say anything.

 

“What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?” Dipper was repeating himself under his breath as he frantically searched around the room. The closet was too small for both of them, and the FBI agents would probably check it anyway. The room did have a small window, but they were so high up that getting out of it would be suicide. There was only one other option.

 

He dropped to the floor, pulling his younger boyfriend down with him, and shimmied under the bed, holding Norman tightly to his chest and covering the medium’s mouth and nose with his good hand to keep him from making any noise.

 

It was awkward and cramped and dusty. Pressed up to Dipper’s chest like that, the younger man could hear his heartbeat, fast and loud like the beating of a drum. 

 

If he strained his ears, bit back his own terror, he could hear the stomping of feet out in the living room, he could hear the muffled sounds of Pacifica yelling at them for “just barging in here” and “we haven’t done anything illegal!” That was a lie, of course. Norman knew full well that harbouring fugitives and lying to federal agents were both considered  _ very _ illegal. He clenched his eyes shut, suddenly very fearful. What if they came in here and took Dipper away from him, what if Dipper and Pacifica and Mabel got punished for this?

 

_ ‘Please don’t come in here,’ _ he begged silently, knowing it was useless.  _ ‘Please, please, please don’t come in here…’ _

 

The door to the guest bedroom slammed open.

 

Neither Dipper nor Norman moved as the sound of footsteps sounded from throughout the room. Whoever was in that room with them was rummaging through the closet, through drawers, anything to find evidence of their prey.

 

“This bed looks recently slept in,” a stranger’s voice said.

 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Pacifica’s voice could be clearly heard as well, defiant as ever, “but sometimes  _ I _ sleep in here when Mabel is mad at me.”

 

Norman didn’t dare to even breathe. Lying came so easily to Pacifica - how bad would it be for her if they got caught anyway? He curled closer to Dipper, ignoring the way the fabric of his boyfriend’s flannel irritated the burns and cuts still on his face. He continued to clench his eyes shut, willing his over-six-foot-tall frame to somehow shrink. He wasn’t going to let the others get in trouble, not over him.

 

The investigator, by the sound of it, continued to rummage around the room rather roughly, earning a few loud protests of “Hey!” from Pacifica every now and then. 

 

Then, he kicked under the bed a little. Norman pressed as close as he could to Dipper, trying to get as far from the edge of the bed - and the invading foot - as possible. 

 

By sheer, dumb luck, the only thing the investigator’s foot came into contact with was the bottom of one of Dipper’s shoes. It must not have felt out of the ordinary enough to check - or perhaps this guy had just had enough of Pacifica berating him - because Norman could hear the stranger walking away from the bed.

 

“Are you done?” Pacifica sounded irritated. “Can we go back to trying to have a normal holiday now, or do you have more bullshit to harass me and my girlfriend with?”

 

Norman heard the two of them exit the room. Only once the door shut did he dare to exhale and open his eyes, looking up at Dipper in the dim light under the bed.

 

“Don’t move,” Dipper whispered, his voice so quiet that even with their closeness, Norman had to strain to hear it. 

 

The seconds passed by with an agonising slowness. Neither of the young men were sure if it was safe to move, or to even breathe. 

 

If they made one wrong move, it was over. Bill would win.

 

Still, they waited. They had no other choice.

 

Finally, the door to the guest bedroom opened again. This time, it was Mabel’s voice who Norman heard:

 

“If you two are in here, you can come out now. They’re gone. It’s safe.”

 

In a flash, Dipper released Norman from his hold and rolled out from under the bed, coughing up some dust. Was he that eager to get away from him? The medium shook that unwelcome thought from his head as he scooted out from the other side of the bed, standing up and brushing some of the dust off of him.

 

“Are you two okay?” Mabel knit her eyebrows together.

 

“A search warrant,” Dipper said. Norman recognised the anger boiling just under the surface in his boyfriend’s voice, threatening to spill over. “A god damned  _ search warrant _ , Mabel!”

 

“You don’t need to yell,” she was seemingly unbothered by her twin’s outburst. “They’re gone now, alright? Paz and I convinced them we didn’t know anything, and they’re gone, so just come back out into the living room-”

 

“It’s  _ not _ alright!” Dipper exclaimed, causing both his sister and his boyfriend to shrink back just a little. “Mabel, the government can just burst in here at any time unannounced and- and bug your apartment, or harass you, or  _ spy _ on you! Don’t you realise how fucked up that is?! And it’s all because of me - you haven’t even done anything!”

 

“Dipper,  _ stop _ yelling,” Mabel shot Norman a look, then grabbed her brother, pulling him close to murmur low in his ear.

 

Norman felt his anxiety over this situation growing more and more, sitting like a black hole expanding inside of him. He never liked it when Dipper yelled - or when anyone yelled - and the way the twins kept sneaking glances over at him through their hushed conversation was making him feel even worse.

 

The Pines twins both looked over to him again, and this time Mabel was smiling that too-bright smile she got when she worried about others.

 

“There are cookies in the oven and Pacifica is alone on the couch,” Mabel said, “so we are going to go out into the living room. We are going to watch Christmas movies. And we’re going to not worry about the FBI until we’ve all calmed down. Okay?”

 

Neither man said anything.

 

“ _ Okay _ ?” She repeated herself insistently, placing her hands on her hips.

 

“Okay, okay!” Dipper took Norman by the hand, and the three of them went back out into the living room. 

 

Norman still didn’t dare to say a word. He felt enough like a burden as it was.

 

***

 

Dipper didn’t fall asleep that night.

 

Norman had barely said a word to him about it - in fact, Norman had been pretty quiet in general - and Mabel and Pacifica both refused to talk about it. But it didn’t sit right with him that the FBI had burst into the apartment looking for him. Nothing about this was okay, and while he loved being with his sister again, he wasn’t sure how long this could go on.

 

There was only one thing he could do about it. As unpleasant as it was, he had to keep the girls safe.

 

It was nearly midnight when he sat straight up in the darkness, rousing Norman (who, he suspected, had been faking sleep anyway).

 

“Dipper?” the medium asked, sounding a mixture of tired and confused. “Where are you going?”

 

“We need to leave,” he replied.

 

“...what are you saying?”

 

“Mabel won’t be happy,” he continued, “but it’s not fair to make her and Pacifica live like this. They’re not who Bill is after -  we are. Pacifica said she has the van. So I say we get the hell out of San Francisco. If the FBI comes back here, they’ll be safe as long as we’re out of the picture.”

 

Norman pursed his lips. For a moment, Dipper was afraid he’d try to persuade him to lay back down and forget that idea.

 

But then, the younger man sighed, sitting up with him.

 

“Yeah… You’re right, Dip.”

 

“You’re okay with this?” Dipper frowned. Something about this seemed off. He appreciated Norman’s support, of course he did, but he’d expected to have to convince him.

 

“I’m fine,” Norman said, though he didn’t quite sound fine. “I mean… you’re right. I don’t want to be a burden. I mean, it’s not fair to them.”

 

The older man paused, wondering if he should press that. 

 

But if he pressed it, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from asking about what Pacifica had told him. And if that caused a fight, it would wake the girls up and ruin his whole plan. As much as he hated it, the conversation had to be saved for when they were safe in another low-end motel room.

 

“So it’s decided,” he said. “We’ll leave as soon as we get our shoes on.”

 

Norman nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

 

Dipper hoped that he was making the right decision.

 

***

 

Mabel woke up bright and early the next day to make everyone a perfect breakfast. She worked hard on mixing the perfect pancake batter, scrambling the perfect eggs, frying the perfect turkey bacon - she had to do something, anything, to get the other three to smile again! 

 

It hadn’t escaped her notice, after all, that no one else had smiled since they had gotten back to America.

 

This whole Bill-FBI-aliens thing had Mabel nervous. Everything was spiraling out of control so rapidly, that she didn’t know what to do. But she  _ did _ know that one thing that  _ was _ in her control was this. She could be there for those who she loved. She could make them smile again. She had to. She just  _ had _ to.

 

“What are you doing?” Pacifica’s voice surprised her just as she was arranging the plates.

 

“ _ Duh _ ,” Mabel gestured to the plates. “Isn’t it obvi? Smiley face pancakes!”

 

“We’re not five,” the blonde deadpanned.

 

“You’re never too old for  fun , Paz,” she stuck out her tongue. “Besides, I know for a fact that you love my pancakes almost as much as you love me.”

 

“If there’s not coffee, I might leave you for my new pancake wife,” Pacifica’s sarcasm didn’t stop as she glared at the empty coffee maker. Mabel laughed sheepishly.

 

“I… got a little carried away with the pancakes… Here, why don’t you make a full pot? I know Dippin’ Sauce is gonna want some, too. I’ll go wake the boys up, alright?”

 

“Mm,” the blonde didn’t even reply with a word.

 

Mabel walked across the apartment and knocked on the door of the guest bedroom.

 

“Dip? Normy?” she called out lightly, or at least as lightly as she could manage. “Are you two awake? Breakfast is ready!”

 

No reply. 

 

That was… odd. Maybe her brother was still asleep, but Norman was a pretty light sleeper. Maybe she hadn’t knocked hard enough? She knocked again, louder.

 

“Guys, come on! It’s really really yummy, I promise!”

 

Still, no reply came forth. This was beginning to get ridiculous. Mabel opened the door.

 

The guest bedroom was completely empty. The bed was rumpled, but other than that there was no sign that the boys had even been here. The clothes they’d been given were gone. Their shoes were gone. They had disappeared.

 

They had left.

 

Mabel felt like her whole world was crashing down. This wasn’t right, this had to be a mistake! Dipper had said it was good for all four of them to be together! She and Pacifica were going to keep them safe!

 

Before she knew it, she was on her knees in tears.

 

“M-Mabel?!” Her girlfriend was suddenly right next to her. “What-”

 

“They’re gone…” she could feel her lip trembling. “They… oh,  _ Pacifica _ !”

 

She threw herself into Pacifica’s chest. The blonde awkwardly wrapped her arms around her, letting Mabel cry it out - letting Mabel show the emotion she’d been denying herself when the boys were here.

 

“I am going to murder them,” Pacifica muttered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't count Mabel and Paz out just yet


	16. Aquarius

_ WASHINGTON, UTAH _

 

It had taken the boys all day to drive out of California and through Nevada, and they’d been so exhausted when they finally pulled into a small town in Utah (At least they were pretty sure they were in Utah), that they had collapsed in their clothes into the first motel bed they could find. It wasn’t even until the next morning that Dipper realised they hadn’t eaten since leaving California. Reluctantly (they were still short on cash), he dragged Norman to the cheapest-looking roadside diner in town.

 

They were seated at a booth near a window - Dipper could see the van in the parking lot from their seat - and handed their menus by a perky blonde waitress who didn’t look any older than eighteen or nineteen. Dipper barely even got a chance to look at the menu before he felt something poking him in his pocket. He reached in with his good hand to pull the offending item out, only to pull his hand out with his fingers wrapped around the flash drive. It must have stuck to his wallet when he pulled it out of the duffel bag.

 

Why hadn’t the FBI taken this when they had custody of the van? This was what they were after, wasn’t it? This was why they were wanted criminals, why Bill had been able to infiltrate the FBI to try and search for them - this small thing in Dipper’s hand was the entire reason they were stuck in a crappy diner in the middle of Utah instead of enjoying the holidays with Mabel and Pacifica, who were probably both pissed at him now. 

 

Sighing, he shoved it back into his pocket and looked up across the table at Norman, who was all bundled up in a scarf and his two beanies, pulled low to hide the cuts and burns on his forehead. (Dipper still hadn’t figured out how, exactly, to talk to him about that.) The medium had barely said a word since they’d left California. It hadn’t escaped Dipper’s notice.

 

“Anything look good?” he tried, hoping that if he just acted like everything was normal, then maybe it would coax Norman out of his shell a little.

 

“You do, sugar,” a third voice interrupted them, and Dipper looked up to see the perky blonde again. Her name tag said ‘Natalie’, now that he was close enough to read it, and she was wearing  _ way _ too much blue eyeshadow. She giggled a little, somewhat nervously, and leaned on the table as she smiled at Dipper. “Pardon me for being forward - it’s not often we get cute strangers in here!”

 

He blinked, surprised at that. If he wasn’t mistaken, then Natalie the waitress was  _ flirting _ with him. 

 

“Uh…” he blushed a little, unsure how to react to this new development.

 

“Do you two boys know what you want?” Natalie twirled a (probably dyed) blonde curl around one of her fingers, still staring directly into Dipper’s eyes the entire time. She didn’t seem to have even really noticed Norman. “I can make some recommendations if you need ‘em! The special of the day is-”

 

“We’re a little short on cash, so we’re probably gonna keep it light,” Dipper cut her off before she got  _ too _ excited over the day’s specials. The last thing he wanted to do was spend twenty dollars on some fancy pancakes when he could probably get eggs and toast for five dollars.

 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, sugar,” Natalie winked at him. “For a cutie like you? I’m sure I could make an…  _ arrangement _ .”

 

Her implication was obvious. The seed of an idea began to form in Dipper’s head.

 

“We’re going to need a little bit more time,” he replied, shooting her what he hoped was an easy-looking grin, “uh,  _ sweetie _ .”

 

The waitress giggled again and nodded her understanding, turning and positively  _ bouncing _ away. Dipper turned to shoot Norman a grin.

 

“Did you see that? She’s  _ totally _ into me,” he said. “This is great!”

 

“You don’t even call me ‘sweetie’,” Norman frowned, looking less than enthused about this new development.

 

“If I can keep this up,” the older man continued, “we might not have to pay for breakfast. You don’t see how great that is?”

 

“So you’re going to lead some poor girl on for a free meal.”

 

“Don’t be like that, Norm. Obviously it’s not ideal, but we really are low on cash right now - so, yeah, I’m going to take advantage of any opportunity I get to save some of it.”

 

Norman scoffed, glaring down at his menu.

 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Dipper tried again. “Don’t get upset.”

 

“I’m not getting upset,” the younger man responded coldly, the way he always did when he got upset. 

 

Dipper frowned, repeating that, “It doesn’t mean anything. Promise.”

 

“Didja decide what you wanted?” Natalie returned to the table with a hot pot of coffee, and Dipper forced his mouth back into a grin as she poured it into their waiting mugs.

 

He didn’t want to upset Norman, of course. But they didn’t even have a hundred dollars to their name anymore. A free meal would be a godsend. If Norman was as reasonable as Dipper had always known he was, he’d realise that, too. He kept telling himself that.

 

“Maybe I want you to surprise me,” he told her.

 

Natalie giggled again, leaning over the table to show off that she’d unbuttoned the top buttons of her uniform. Across the table, Norman rolled his eyes. Dipper resisted the urge to call him out on that.

 

“I’m full of surprises, sugar,” she winked again. She was certainly not shy.

 

“I don’t doubt that,” he forced his own false confidence, just the way Grunkle Stan had taught him so many years ago.

 

“What about your friend?”

 

“I’m not hungry,” Norman mumbled, slamming his menu shut and shoving it towards her. 

 

Dipper nudged his leg with one knee under the table. Norman wasn’t being  _ reasonable _ . The medium shot him a look that Dipper couldn’t quite read.

 

“Well, that won’t do! You’ve gotta eat, you’re so skinny!” the blonde exclaimed. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. Leave it all to me.”

 

She skipped away again, back towards the kitchen, and Dipper let his fake smile fall.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

 

“I could ask you the same question,” the medium deadpanned. 

 

“I’m getting us a  _ free meal _ . We are  _ poor _ . That is  _ all _ this is,” Dipper spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m not interested in her, alright? But we need to be saving money, and this is going to help us out a  _ lot _ .”

 

Norman snorted. “Could have fooled me.”

 

“Are you serious right now?” His temper flared. “Are you seriously going to pull this shit when you know as well as I do how low on funds we are?”

 

“What shit am I pulling, exactly? I’m not the one blatantly flirting with some stranger right in front of my  _ boyfriend _ .”

 

“You said you weren’t upset.”

 

“I’m not upset,” Norman glared. 

 

Dipper balled his right hand - the one that could be balled - into a fist and resisted the urge to punch the window next to them. This was infuriating.

 

“She’s not even my type, you know. I already told you it means nothing.”

 

“Mm,” the medium didn’t even dignify that with a response.

 

Fine, Dipper decided. If that was the way he wanted this to go, then he wasn’t going to waste his time trying to talk to someone who refused to listen. He crossed his arms and glared out the window to where their van sat in the parking lot, waiting to see what, exactly, Natalie was going to bring him. 

 

He  _ hated _ when Norman got like this. For god’s sake, they’d been dating how many years now? The jealousy wasn’t cute anymore. 

 

Dipper sighed. It wasn’t even that he  _ wanted _ to make his boyfriend jealous. But it wasn’t like they’d had a lot of opportunities to save money on this trip. Of course he was going to grab one when it dangled so obviously in front of him. Why couldn’t Norman  _ see _ that?

 

It wasn’t a terribly long wait before Natalie came back out with two heaping plates - biscuits smothered in steaming hot gravy, crispy hash browns, scrambled eggs with melted cheese, and the greasiest looking bacon Dipper had ever seen. It wasn’t the breakfast he would have ordered, but he wasn’t about to complain. His stomach rumbled in appreciation.

 

“On the house, sweetie,” Natalie shot him a warm smile, not even looking at Norman. “Told the chef we were cousins.”

 

“Beauty  _ and _ brains,” Dipper responded readily. He knew he shouldn’t have said that, but at this point he didn’t really care anymore. If Norman was going to be uncooperative, then so would he.

 

“So,” her smile grew, and she began twirling her hair again, “what brings a cute boy like you into a small town like Washington?”

 

“Dipper is looking for aliens,” Norman muttered, not even bothering to come up with an excuse for them to be here. “You know. Little green men from Mars.”

 

Dipper shot a glare across the table - was he  _ trying _ to make him look like an idiot in front of the waitress? 

 

(Actually, that was probably  _ exactly _ what he was doing.) 

 

“Oh,” the blonde girl paused, shooting Dipper a strange look. 

 

Great, now he was going to pay for all of this food just because Norman had to go and make some smartass remark to make him look bad. But then...

 

“You know,” her big, somewhat-ditzy grin returned full-force, “if you’re seriously into all that UFO stuff, you should  _ really _ talk to Todd Price. He swears up and down his little sister was abducted by real life aliens!”

 

“ _ Really _ ?” Dipper shot a glance over to Norman before smiling back at Natalie again. “You don’t say.”

 

“Yeah, sometimes he plays his guitar at open mic night at Lefty’s,” she shrugged. “You should check it out. I mean…  _ I’ll _ be there… Maybe you can repay me for breakfast by buying me a drink...”

 

Dipper didn’t even think she looked old enough to be drinking, but he nodded anyway. “Sounds like a plan, Natalie. I’ll see you there.”

 

She gave another one of her little giggles before flipping her permed curls over her shoulder.

 

“Enjoy your breakfast, uh, Dipper, was it? I’ll check up on you in a bit, cutie.”

 

The smile faded from his face as soon as she was gone, and he turned back to Norman with another glare.

 

“See?” he gestured to the food, way too much for either of them to finish. “Free breakfast. Piece of cake. No thanks to  _ you _ .”

 

“What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” Norman glared right back, not even bothering to hide his displeasure anymore.

 

“Like you don’t know, Mr. ‘Dipper is looking for aliens’! Real fucking mature, Norman. Just admit you’re mad for once and quit with the little games!”

 

“I’m. Not. Mad,” the medium repeated, taking a bite of his food defiantly. “And I’m not playing any games.  _ You’re _ the one flirting with some girl. Not me.”

 

“God, what is your problem?” Dipper tore into a piece of bacon with his teeth. “I already told you it wasn’t personal! We needed a free meal, so I got us one - I’m taking  _ care _ of you.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to ‘take care’ of me by flirting with some random girl right in front of me when you knew full well how upset it would make me,” Norman’s voice was low and ice cold.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t upset.”

 

The younger man glared harder from under his beanies, chewing in silence for a few seconds before he gave a reply that was much quieter, and  _ much _ colder:

 

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to be upset, considering what you just did.”

 

“What I did? What  _ I _ did?! Well, do you want to know what  I think, Norman?” Dipper challenged. “I think you’re just being too  _ sensitive _ .”

 

Norman clearly did  _ not _ like that. His face flushed with fresh anger, his eyes got even colder, and - completely silent - he stood up from the booth and began to storm out of the restaurant.

 

Dipper groaned out loud. Was Norman  _ really _ going to pull this shit?

 

“Gosh, where’s he going in such a hurry?” Natalie’s voice piped up again. 

 

He shook his head and stood up, shooting the food one last forlorn, hungry look. As much as he didn’t want to deal with this right now, he knew he had to go after Norman before someone recognised his face from the news. 

 

Without a word, he left the waitress to go out to the van.

 

***

 

Norman’s hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked briskly down another sidewalk, back towards the motel. He could see his breath coming out in cold, angry puffs in front of him, but he couldn’t be bothered to remove his hands from his pockets to pull his scarf back up.

 

He should have expected this, he reflected bitterly. He should have expected Dipper would eventually begin to see what a  _ burden _ he was.

 

But even so, it still  _ hurt _ . It hurt that Dipper would start to explore other options right in front of him, like he wasn’t even there. It hurt that the one person who Norman always hoped would understand him somehow had known the exact worst thing to say to him.

 

(“You’re too sensitive,” the voice echoed around and around in his head, until Dipper’s voice morphed into his father’s. How many times had Perry berated him for being too sensitive? For not being  _ normal _ ? And now it turned out Dipper thought so too?)

 

Well no more, he decided. He wasn’t going to get angry. He wasn’t going to feel sorry for it and start crying. If his feelings were too much for Dipper, then maybe he just wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

 

The van pulled up beside him and honked its horn, Dipper rolling down his window, probably to yell at him some more. Norman walked faster, choking down all of his emotion until that familiar numbness began to seep into his chest.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, just walking out of the restaurant like that?” the older man demanded, making the van crawl along the sidewalk to trail Norman. 

 

“I’m taking a walk,” Norman measured every word out coldly, betraying no emotion. He wouldn’t give Dipper the satisfaction of being right. “Or am I not allowed to do that either?”

 

“It’s  _ freezing _ outside,” Dipper glared. “Get in the van before you freeze your nose off.”

 

The medium paused. Then, he shook his head.

 

“Doesn’t feel that cold to me. Maybe you’re just being  _ sensitive _ .”

 

Dipper’s face got bright red with rage. “Norman-! Get. In. The.  _ Van _ !”

 

Another pause. Then, a quick and simple “No.”

 

“Get in the fucking van right fucking  _ now _ !”

 

“I already said no,” Norman’s voice was colder than the winter air around them. “I don’t want to.”

 

“I don’t  _ care _ if you don’t want to!” Dipper yelled, the veins in his neck popping forward.

 

“Of course you don’t,” the younger man spat before he could really stop himself. “Nothing about this trip has been about what  _ I _ want…”

 

If Dipper had looked mad before, now he looked  _ furious _ .

 

“Norman,  _ get _ in the van, for fuck’s sake!” He was screaming now. The few people out and about in the morning cold took notice.

 

“You don’t need to yell,” Norman responded coldly, not making any move to get in the van. That was the last place he wanted to be right now.

 

“Quit being a stubborn dick and get in the  _ fucking _ van before someone sees you!”

 

“No one was looking at me before you started yelling. And I’m not going to get in the van, so you might as well just go back to the motel.”

 

If possible, Dipper’s face got even redder, and he looked about ready to explode, when one of the strangers on the street walked up to Norman to ask:

 

“Is this man bothering you?”

 

Norman didn’t even have to glance over to see how much that infuriated Dipper. He could practically  _ feel _ the hot waves of sheer rage radiating from the van.

 

“No,” he replied to the strange woman with a little less coldness - he had no issue with her, after all. “He’s just being a little  _ sensitive _ . That’s all.”

 

“I’m not being - just _ get in the van _ !”

 

“He doesn’t have to listen to you,” the woman snapped at Dipper, then offered Norman a smile. He couldn’t quite bring himself to smile back. “Do you need a ride, son?”

 

Norman glared out of the corner of his eye toward Dipper, who almost resembled a volcano about to erupt. Before his boyfriend could begin spewing profanities, however, he simply shook his head at the kind stranger.

 

“I was kind of enjoying walking,” he shot another ice cold glare at the other man, “ _ all by myself _ _._ ”

 

The woman looked from one man to the other, then shrugged.

 

“Well… alright then. But if you change your mind, I’ll just be in the Walgreens down the street…”

 

Norman already knew he wouldn’t change his mind. He began his brisk walk again, trying to get away from Dipper, who was not having that.

 

“Would you just,” the older man continued to drive alongside him, speaking through gritted teeth, “drop this little passive aggressive bullshit game you play and get in the van?”

 

“I’m not playing any game,” Norman didn’t even look up at him. He wouldn’t let himself look at Dipper’s face. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the hurt he couldn’t ever quite keep out of his blue eyes.

 

“Don’t make me count to three-”

 

“What are you, my  _ mother _ ? You don’t have the right to order me around like that.”

 

“I’m  _ not _ ordering you around!”

 

“...Whatever. I’ll see you back at the motel, Dipper,” Norman kicked a rock on the sidewalk, then turned into an alleyway between two of the buildings. The van couldn’t follow him there.

 

He heard his boyfriend muttering profanities. Then, he heard the sound of tires screeching as the van drove off toward their motel room without him.

 

He sighed heavily and leaned against the side of one of the buildings so he could calm down before he began walking again.

 

The emotions began to swirl in his stomach again. And again, Norman forced them to stay down.

 

If Dipper really wanted to leave him for some waitress, then he wouldn’t let himself feel anything about it.

 

After all, he should have known better than to expect Dipper to want to stay with a murderer.

 

***

 

When Norman finally got to the motel room, Dipper was watching some mindless sitcom on TV, very pointedly turning up the volume when his boyfriend walked in. The medium had responded by walking briskly past him and laying on the other motel bed - because of  _ course _ they had been given a room with two beds - to stare at the wall numbly, curled into a little ball.

 

The two didn’t speak for hours. 

 

Lunchtime came and passed - Dipper ate a granola bar that he’d shoved into the duffel bag from Mabel’s apartment, Norman didn’t eat at all - and still, no words were exchanged between them.

 

After some time, the TV turned off. Norman didn’t turn around or uncurl out of his defensive ball, but he could hear Dipper get up, walk across the room towards the bathroom. He could hear the water turning on. Dryly, he thought about how mad Dipper had to be at him to prefer a  _ shower _ to being in his company.

 

Then he remembered. The other man had told Natalie he’d meet her at that bar to talk to Todd Price. He was getting ready to see  _ her _ .

 

Norman sighed, curling a little tighter as he continued to stare at the wall.

 

He didn’t move when Dipper finished his shower and came out of the bathroom in a towel. He didn’t turn around when he heard him changing into fresh clothes.

 

“Are you going to get ready or not?”

 

The younger man winced involuntarily - Dipper sounded so annoyed with him - and forced himself to sound impassive as he replied, “Wasn’t aware I was invited on your little date.”

 

“It’s not-!” The older man sputtered indignantly. “Look, as long as we’re stuck here in Utah, we might as well talk to this Todd Price guy, alright? We’ve got fuck all else to do! Now are you coming, or are you just going to mope all night?”

 

‘Mope’. Norman snorted. Is that what Dipper thought he was doing? Like he was just some toddler pouting and throwing a fit?

 

He rolled off the bed, standing up defiantly, not saying a word. He didn’t have to.

 

Dipper sniped, “Are you going to ride in the van with me, or did you want to walk to the bar, too?”

 

The van ride over to the bar was quiet and tense. The tension didn’t go away when they entered Lefty’s and hung their coats on the rack by the door, but the quiet sure did. 

 

This place was the most stereotypical dive bar Norman had ever seen. Unglamourous, cacophonous, and well-worn, this place definitely wouldn’t be featured on any travel TV shows anytime soon. The place was filled to the brink with locals escaping the winter weather, most of them already drunk as some terrible amateur comedian chirped unfunny jokes into the microphone near the back of the establishment. No one seemed to be paying him much mind. No one seemed to pay Norman or Dipper much mind, either.

 

They took a booth near the back, the table still slightly sticky from whoever had been sitting their last. Dipper wrinkled his nose up when he realised that, his eyes scanning the bar as they avoided Norman. After a few minutes, a feminine voice chirped:

 

“You made it!”

 

The medium didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. But he turned to face her, anyway.

 

Natalie stood smiling that same ditzy smile at Dipper from earlier through painted lips, her perm teased up into a ponytail that rivalled Courtney’s bounciest. No longer in her waitress uniform, she was wearing tight jeans and a top similar to one Pacifica had once described to him as “less a shirt and more a strategically-tied handkerchief”.

 

He sank down into his seat a little. He didn’t want to face her.

 

“You two ran off so suddenly this morning, I was afraid you weren’t gonna make it tonight,” she chirped, sliding into Dipper’s side of the booth. “Y’know, my friend Denise should be here soon too, if your friend is single…”

 

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Norman muttered.

 

“Oh! Well, your loss I guess,” Natalie giggled, looking back at Dipper. That giggle dug deep into Norman’s core, digging its claws into his stomach and twisting. His loss indeed.

 

“R-right…” the older man continued to look around the room. “Hey, so, where’s that guy Todd you were telling me about? Is he here tonight?”

 

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, he’s over by the stage, the one with the guitar. I think he’s up next, after Unfunny McGee over there.”

 

Norman’s curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn’t help but look. There, with a guitar, stood a muscular blonde with an armband tattoo - Todd Price. It had to be.

 

“Anyway,” Natalie continued flippantly, scooching a little closer to Dipper, “If I remember correctly, you were gonna buy me a drink?”

 

The younger man didn’t wait to hear his boyfriend’s reply. He couldn’t do this twice in one day. He slid out of the booth just as Todd walked up to the microphone. He didn’t really pay much attention to the song itself - it seemed pretty generic, something about loss - but rather scanned the bar, searching for something, anything, to distract him from the horrible thoughts swirling in his mind.

 

That’s when he saw her.

 

Not too far from the stage area - though not too near it, either - stood a young girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, definitely too young to be in this bar. Not that anyone else noticed her. She was very clearly dead, the ghostly green glow obvious in the bar’s low light, if the blue lips and puckered fingertips of an obvious drowning weren’t enough to clue him in. 

 

Norman walked over to the ghost girl. If he was clearly no use to Dipper right now, then maybe he could be useful to her. At the very least, it was a welcome distraction.

 

He leaned on the wall next to her, though she barely took notice of him, watching Todd strum the same four chords on his guitar repeatedly. 

 

“H-hey…” he muttered.

 

It took the ghost girl a few seconds to realise Norman was talking to her, and she blinked in surprise before turning to face him.

 

“Are… are you talking to me? You can see me?”

 

He nodded, gesturing to himself. “I’m a medium… that’s kinda what I do.”

 

“You gotta name, medium?” she glanced over her shoulder at Todd’s generic performance before looking back at Norman.

 

“Norman Babcock. You?”

 

“Mindy Price.”

 

“P-Price?” Now it was Norman’s turn for surprise.

 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m here,” the ghostly teen glanced at Todd again. “I just… wanted to watch my brother perform…”

 

And suddenly, Norman realised what must have happened. Todd thought Mindy had been abducted by aliens for the same reason Dipper had always been obsessed with them - it was almost a comfort, when things got too out of control, to think that problems here on Earth were tiny, even miniscule, in the grand scheme of things. It was a comfort to think one maybe wasn’t alone when faced with an issue like college finals or a lost job… or a dead little sister. Mindy hadn’t been abducted by anyone at all. She’d just  _ drowned _ . And Todd… Todd had no idea. Norman didn’t know if he was unaware or if he’d just refused to accept it. 

 

“Todd thinks you were-”

 

“Taken by little green spacemen?” Mindy rolled her eyes. “I know. I just… wish I could tell him otherwise, you know? I wish I could tell him I’m okay. It didn’t hurt that bad.”

 

Norman nodded. He knew he could help her. And, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he knew that if Dipper saw that it turned out Natalie was wrong, that it turned out Todd  _ wasn’t _ a lead on the alien case… maybe Dipper would lose interest in her.

 

_ ‘Don’t be selfish,’ _ he chided himself.  _ ‘ This isn’t about you. Help the dead - that’s all you’re good for, anyway, isn’t it?’ _

 

(At least he was still good for  _ something _ .)

 

“I can tell him,” he told her.

 

“Would you?” Mindy’s slightly-bloated blue lips spread into a smile. “He- he won’t believe you at first, you know, but I can help, I can if you need me to, I- oh, thank you!”

 

Norman felt something warm in his heart, for the first time in weeks. It almost felt nice to feel something again… until he remembered he didn’t deserve it. He sighed.

 

“N-no problem… as soon as he’s done with his song.”

 

Luckily, Todd’s song was wrapped up pretty quickly. Norman didn’t have to wait long to approach him at all. Feigning all the confidence he didn’t feel, he walked right up to the muscular stranger right as he began to put his guitar back in its worn black case. Norman took a breath, trying to figure out what to even say. It wasn’t exactly polite to just walk up to a complete stranger and tell them their sister was dead.

 

“Woah, hey, I didn’t see you there,” Todd looked up at him, standing to his full height. He was taller than Dipper, but still shorter than Norman. “You’re… not from around here, are you? Think I’d remember eyes like yours.”

 

“Here we go…” Mindy muttered behind Norman, though the medium couldn’t understand why she sounded so exasperated. Or why Todd’s innocent comment made a blush spring to his cheeks.

 

“U-uh, no, I’m from…” Norman paused. He couldn’t say where he was actually from. So he blurted out the first city that came to mind. “...Portland.”

 

“Really? What’s a city boy like you doing in Washington?”

 

“Road trip,” Norman mumbled. It wasn’t technically a lie.

 

“You got a name, Portland?”

 

“Oh, it’s, uh, Norman…”

 

Shit. Should he have given him a fake name? It hadn’t even occurred to him until now, but what if Todd recognised his name from the news? Wouldn’t that just be perfect? They’d get captured again and it’d be all Norman’s fault.

 

“That’s,” Todd’s voice snapped him out of this train of thought, “a cute name. Norman from Portland… Almost rhymes. I could make a song outta that... I’m Todd.”

 

“I know,” Norman said quietly, casting his gaze down. 

 

Todd reached out, placed a friendly hand on Norman’s arm, and asked:

 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

 

“That would be nice,” the medium admitted.

 

“Come on,” the friendly stranger motioned to the bartender to bring him two beers, then led him by the arm to an empty table, just as sticky as the booth he’d been sitting at a few minutes prior. (Norman was beginning to wonder if everything in this place was sticky.) Todd let his hand linger on Norman’s arm for far longer than it should have, and the medium blushed.

 

Was this guy…  _ flirting _ with him?

 

No, no, he couldn’t possibly be… Norman wondered if perhaps, just in case, he should inform him he had a boyfriend. Then again, Dipper hadn’t thought that was important enough to mention to Natalie. Maybe he wouldn’t tell. Maybe he’d enjoy the attention. After all, Dipper had certainly seemed to enjoy it, hadn’t he? Norman almost didn’t even feel guilty.

 

“So. Norman from Portland. You like my song?” Todd’s voice snapped the medium out of these thoughts.

 

“Tease him a little. Tell him it stinks,” Mindy whispered in his ear. Norman ignored that instruction.

 

“I…” he tried to think of a polite way to say that he hadn’t even been listening to the song, to bring up the real reason he’d wanted to speak with Todd.

 

“Hang on, I think I have a sample CD in my guitar case,” Todd ducked down right as the bartender brought them their beers, coming up holding a CD that had clearly been burned on a laptop rather than professionally made. 

 

“Th-thanks,” Norman took it from him gingerly before sipping his beer. He’d never been much of a beer person, but he didn’t want to be rude. He could hear Mindy beginning to make impatient sighs behind him, though, so he said, “I really wanted to talk to you about your sister, though.”

 

“What about her?”

 

“I, uh… heard from a waitress this morning that you have a  _ theory _ about her disappearance?”

 

Todd’s smile faltered just a little, and he blurted out, “I’m not crazy.”

 

Norman wasn’t surprised. It was the same thing Linda had said before she’d begun talking about aliens. It was something he himself had said often as a child, trying to convince the adults around him he really could see ghosts.

 

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he replied softly. “Why don’t you tell me about her?”

 

The other man hesitated. Then, he reached out and took one of Norman’s hands. Norman let him. Anything to help him open up and trust.

 

“She was taken by aliens a few years ago. It was summertime, and my family had a picnic down at the local reservoir. I’d just bought my guitar, and I kept trying to make her listen to my songs, but she just wanted to go play in the water… There was…  a bright flash of light. And then she was just, you know.  _ Gone _ . Without a trace. I know it makes no sense, but I could never come up with any explanation for it except that...”

 

It made perfect sense. 

 

“But… you know that’s not true, don’t you?”

 

“You one of those skeptics?” Todd flashed a somewhat-wary smile.

 

“Todd, you know what happened to Mindy,” Norman squeezed his hand. 

 

“H-how did you know her name?”

 

“You know the truth… remember. Okay? Just remember.”

 

The blonde man shook his head. “It… It had to be aliens… I told her not to go in the water- it  _ had _ to be aliens.”

 

“Tell him I’m okay,” Mindy’s ghost reminded him as she watched her brother shaking his head in disbelief, struggling to remember.

 

“Mindy’s okay, you know,” Norman obliged. This came so easy to him, helping others like this. Why couldn’t he  _ always _ be this useful? “Trust me, okay? She doesn’t blame you for it.”

 

The other man sighed. Then, he propelled himself across the table to hug Norman.

 

“Do you think she’d forgive me?”

 

The medium looked over to Mindy, who nodded.

 

“I know she would,” he told Todd. “She does. Don’t ask me how I know, but… she does.”

 

The other man pulled back, tears in his eyes and a watery smile on his face.

 

“Shit, man,” Todd laughed a little, holding back tears. “I haven’t cried like this since… I gotta go clean up, I can’t let my bros see me like this.”

 

“I’ll be here,” Norman answered, letting him get up to run to the bathroom. All and all, it had gone better than he’d expected. He turned to see if Mindy was pleased, to see if she could finally move on…

 

...only to be greeted with the sight of a  _ very _ angry looking Dipper Pines standing right in front of him.

 

Dipper was bright red and practically foaming at the mouth, and suddenly Norman remembered where he was and what had happened the rest of the day. That’s right, he was  _ mad _ at Dipper. He let his expression fall flat into a comfortable glare.

 

“Norman, what the  _ fuck _ ?!” Dipper demanded indignantly.

 

“...what? I’m not allowed to talk to Todd, now?” The medium couldn’t help but respond a little more bitingly than he would with anyone else. “Natalie is the one who told us to. Where is she, by the way?”

 

“That- That’s not- You were  _ flirting _ with him!”

 

“No I wasn’t. I was  _ talking _ to him,” his glare hardened even more. Was Dipper  _ seriously _ going to get jealous and possessive, after throwing such a huge fit when Norman got upset earlier? 

 

“You- you let him touch your arm!”

 

“Ooh, he touched my  _ arm _ .” Norman rolled his eyes, responding with flat sarcasm. “How dare he. My entire arm is impure now.”

 

“It’s not a joke, Norman!”

 

“My  _entire arm_ .”

 

“You let him buy you a drink!”

 

Norman eyed the beer bottle on the table. Then, he grabbed it and took a large swig of it before glaring back up at his boyfriend defiantly and asking:

 

“Nice of him, wasn’t it?”

 

“You- you-” The older man sputtered indignantly. Then, without warning, he grabbed Norman’s arms and pulled him up from the table, a little more roughly than he’d probably meant to.

 

“Let me go,” the medium tried to pull away, to no avail. His boyfriend clearly had no intention of letting go.

 

“We’re going to talk about this.”

 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I was just talking to him.”

 

But Dipper wasn’t listening.

 

Even through his sweater, Norman could feel Dipper’s fingers digging in, holding his arm tightly as he pulled him rather roughly into the parking lot. The cold winter air was biting into his skin, but Norman just glared ahead at the back of his boyfriend’s head, until Dipper whirled around, face red with anger, and demanded:

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

 

Peeved, Norman’s voice was ice cold as he snarked in reply, “Being dragged out into the cold while you yell at me.”

 

If possible, this only made Dipper’s face redder, and he let go of Norman’s arm to gesture wildly back at the bar. “I meant in there! With that  _ guy _ ! What the  _ hell _ was that?!”

 

“I was just talking to him, Dipper,” the younger man repeated himself through clenched teeth. “Having a friendly conversation. Trying to get information on  _ your _ alien case.”

 

Dipper’s eyes narrowed.

 

“You- you let him buy you a drink!” His voice got louder. A couple other drunks in the parking lot were starting to take notice. Dipper didn’t seem to care. “You let him touch your arm! You call  _ that _ just a ‘friendly conversation’?!”

 

Norman suppressed the urge to shiver from how cold it was out here. He wished Dipper had given him a chance to grab his jacket before pulling him out here. Speaking slowly, he replied, “He has information on  _ your _ case.”

 

“Yeah?! There are ways to get information other than flirting with someone right in front of me!”

 

“Other ways to pay for food, too,” he mumbled.

 

“You said you weren’t mad about that!” Dipper’s voice got a lot more accusatory now. “So, what, this is some twisted payback? Is that what you’re doing?!”

 

“If you flirting with some waitress shouldn’t bother me, then why should this bother you? You’re being a hypocrite.”

 

A frustrated groan, and then Dipper suddenly couldn’t seem to stop yelling. “I  _ explained _ that to you already, and you told me you weren’t mad!  _ Augh _ , why can’t you just fucking yell at me or once like a normal person?! I hate it when you get like this - you wanna talk about being a hypocrite, Norman?! You- you expect me to be able to read your god damned mind, but then you go and claim everything is just fine - only to turn around and pull a stunt like this with some self-absorbed douchebag in an Ed Hardy t-shirt!”

 

Every single one of those sentences had felt like a punch to the gut, and even Norman couldn’t completely bite back his anger when Dipper pushed him like that.

 

“A normal person?” he asked. “A  _ normal _ person?! Well, guess what, Dipper? I’m not a normal person. And I’m never going to be a normal person! I’ve known that since I was eleven, and  _ everything _ that’s happened so far on this stupid road trip has done nothing but prove it. So if you want to date a normal person?! Go ask out that waitress!”

 

Now, it was as if Dipper was exploding. He was completely freaking out, screaming at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of anyone brave enough to venture out into the cold, icy parking lot:

 

“I already  _ told _ you I wasn’t interested in her!!! How the fuck can you still doubt that after I have lost nearly  _ everything _ to keep you safe?! Huh?! I lost my home, I lost my job, I lost my relationship with my sister, I’ve lost almost all the money we had,” Dipper gestured to his cast, “and I nearly lost my god damned arm for you! And for what? For you to leave me for- for some ex frat boy?!”

 

If the earlier complaints had been like punches to his stomach, Dipper holding up his cast was like a stab right through Norman’s heart. Completely consumed by guilt and self-loathing which left no room for the anger he had just been trying to bite down, he turned away from Dipper, feeling as if he was collapsing in on himself. As if the world was collapsing in on him. Dipper had almost  _ died _ because of him, and they both knew it. Feeling his eyes start to prickle uncomfortably, Norman clenched his eyes shut. He wouldn’t cry, not here.

 

“I…” he replied weakly, “I was never gonna leave you…”

 

“You-” though he couldn’t see Dipper’s face, he could hear the older man’s voice lowering in both volume and pitch as his anger began to deflate, “but- but then why were you hanging all over him?”

 

“ _ Because _ !” Norman gasped out miserably, crossing his arms over his chest as if to guard himself. “You kept going on and on about how it meant nothing to you earlier and I wanted you to know it meant something to me, I wanted you to know what it felt like! I… I  _ am _ upset with you about it,” he admitted.

 

“Then why did you say you weren’t? Why didn’t you just… yell at me?”

 

Norman didn’t want to respond to that. He opened his eyes but kept them cast down at his feet in the icy parking lot. He couldn’t answer that. Dipper already didn’t think he was normal - if he knew what Norman was about to say, it might change everything. It might make Dipper leave.

 

“Why don’t you ever just yell at me?” The older of the pair tried again, his voice gentler, as if Norman deserved gentleness.

 

The medium shrunk a little more into himself, as if trying to disappear into his sweater.

 

“You’re- you’re allowed to be mad at me…” Dipper spoke again, not willing to let this go. 

 

Norman just shook his head.

 

“What do you mean?” the older man asked. “Yes, you are.”

 

“You don’t understand…”

 

“What’s there not to understand? I’d rather you yelled at me and got it out all at once instead of letting it fester and getting all passive aggressive.”

 

“I can’t let myself get angry!” Norman blurted out, unable to bite it back any longer. He looked back up at Dipper, frightened of where this conversation would go if the other man didn’t just drop it.

 

“Well, why not? I might yell back but I won’t hate you for it. Mabel and I used to get in screaming matches all the time-”

 

“That’s not it.”

 

“Then  _ what is it _ ? Norman, I… I can’t read your mind. You need to be able to tell me these things, alright? I’m just trying to understand why.”

 

Norman sighed heavily. Then, he stammered, “B-because I… I’m scared of what I’ll do! Okay?” The rest of it came out in a quick stream of words, like word-vomit, “I- The last time I got upset with you I threw you across the room with my weird freaky lightning stuff! I could seriously  _ hurt _ you, Dipper, and I would have no control over that! So I  _ can’t _ get angry, okay?! I can’t… I… I can’t…”

 

Dipper was stunned into silence for a few seconds, and the medium wished he could read  _ his _ mind. His expression was the same that it was when Dipper was trying to figure out a puzzle or a riddle or a mystery, but beyond that Norman had no idea what he was thinking.

 

Then, he took a step towards the younger man, reaching for him with his good hand as he said, softly, “Norman, I… I had no idea you felt like that…”

 

Norman made no move to get any closer to Dipper - but he didn’t move away from him either. He just stood completely still, replying weakly, “I’m not normal…”

 

“I don’t want someone normal,” Dipper took another step towards him.

 

This time, Norman leaned minutely in his direction, though he was still hesitant, “I might be dangerous…”

 

“I’ve never once in my life thought that about you,” the older man shook his head. “I’m not afraid of you.”

 

Finally, Norman glanced up to meet Dipper’s brown eyes.

 

He was being honest.

 

The medium took the tiniest step towards him, admitting in a tiny, raw voice, “I am.”

 

“You shouldn’t be,” Dipper took another step forward, still reaching for Norman. He was so close now. “Come here…”

 

How could Norman resist when Dipper asked him like that, reached out to him like a child? Helpless and tired, he all but collapsed into the other man’s chest, leaning down a little so his face was by Dipper’s neck.

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he admitted.

 

“I’m sorry, too,” Dipper held him with his right arm, even if the left was useless. “And I’m not mad anymore, okay? I just wish I’d known before-”

 

“N-No, I mean… I’m sorry I let him flirt with me. I was just being petty and stupid! I… I don’t know if this makes it any better, but I honestly didn’t realise he was flirting at first-”

 

“You’re not stupid, Norm. I know you’re not the type of person to pick up random people at dive bars. I should have trusted that. And I shouldn’t have flirted with the waitress, either.”

 

Norman nodded. “I forgive you… God, I’ve been acting so… stupid.”

 

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Dipper repeated. “You’re allowed to talk to me about these things, you know. I don’t love you any less just because you’re scared.”

 

The younger man bit his lip, not replying to that. He didn’t quite believe it, even if Dipper did.

 

“We should go back inside,” he changed the subject back to the easier problem to deal with. “Tell Todd you’re my boyfriend.”

 

At first, he was afraid Dipper would push the conversation more.

 

But the older man just sighed, and said, “Alright. Lead the way.”

 

***

 

All things considering, Todd had taken the news rather well. (“I knew there was no way someone like you was single,” had been his opinion.) Natalie, however, had been surprised, though her expression had softened when Norman handed her the mix CD Todd had given him.

 

Dipper was more than ready to get the hell out of Utah, even with these loose ends tied up. It made him antsy to stay here more than one night. Norman didn’t protest when he loaded everything into the van.

 

In fact, Norman didn’t say anything at all. Even after what the older man had felt was a pivotal confession - after  _ years _ of trying to get the medium to admit something like that - he was now completely silent.

 

And Dipper didn’t know what to do for him.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I framed Norman's passive-aggressive tendencies as funny in the Guide? Not so funny anymore, are they?
> 
> And hey, since Dipper and Norman are on the run again, does that make Norman a small medium at large?


	17. Mercury Retrograde

_ SOMEWHERE IN WYOMING _

 

“...and on behalf of KDFC, I’d like to wish you all a Merry Christmas. Be sure to go to bed early tonight so Santa can come on time!” The radio announcer chuckled. “Good night, KDFC listeners.”

 

That was right. It was Christmas Eve now. Dipper hadn’t even realised how much that had snuck up on him. 

 

With everything that had happened lately, things like Christmas and Hanukkah were the furthest thing from his mind. As the van’s radio began to play “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”, he reached over and turned it off. Being on an actual FBI watchlist and stalked by Bill Cipher made lyrics like “He sees you when you’re sleeping” a lot less cute.

 

The snow was beginning to come down harder and harder, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to see. He pulled over to the side of the road, wondering if they’d have to spend another night in the van. He’d taken some blankets from his sister’s apartment, but it still wasn’t ideal.

 

And that wasn’t the only thing that was bothering him.

 

He looked over at Norman, who was staring blankly ahead. In the dim light of headlights reflecting off of snow, the self-inflicted cuts on his face looked almost black. Dipper knew he had to ask Norman about them eventually. But after his confession back in Utah, Norman had barely said a word. Dipper wished he could read his mind at times like these. He really did.

 

Still, now was as good a time as ever. He couldn’t keep bottling it up. Not when it was hurting his boyfriend.

 

“Norman?” He asked gently. “Can… can we talk?”

 

“Nothing to talk about,” the medium murmured.

 

“Y-yes there is. We need to talk about this anger thing. If- if you’re really scared by this, then don’t you think we should talk about it? This is a big deal!”

 

“Just… forget I said that,” Norman shrank down into his seat a little.

 

“No. I’m  _ not _ going to forget it,” Dipper replied insistently. “We’re not going to keep pushing it down and pretending it’s not hurting you - look where that’s gotten us!”

 

The medium didn’t reply. 

 

Dipper sighed, “I… I don’t want you to feel like you have to pretend like everything’s okay and push your feelings down. Not for me.

 

“I’m…  _ fine _ .”

 

“You’re not fine and we both know it,” brown eyes drifted to the dark cuts on Norman’s forehead. And suddenly he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to say it now. “Norman, I… I know what you did.”

 

Suddenly, Norman’s eyes blew wide, and he looked at Dipper with a wild look of fear. Then - it happened so suddenly that it took the older man a few seconds to realise it even  _ was _ happening - without warning, he unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and ran out into the snow, which was coming down heavier by the second.

 

_ Shit _ . That had  _ not _ been the reaction Dipper was expecting.

 

In a flash, he jumped out of his side of the van, into the biting cold, leaving the door wide open. He didn’t care. He just knew he had to catch up.

 

“N-Norman!” He called out to him, screaming, “Norman,  _ wait _ !”

 

But the younger man did not wait, and soon, Dipper couldn’t even see him for how thick the snow was coming down, the wind blowing so hard into his face that it was almost like the hundreds of thousands of snowflakes were aiming straight at his skin. Even with all the layers of clothes he was wearing, the chill was biting down straight to his bones.

 

He had to get to Norman.

 

Dipper continued to run against the wind, calling out for him as he fought his way through the snow even as it threatened to blow him back towards the van. 

 

God, what was the medium even  _ thinking _ running out into this kind of weather?! He squinted and ran towards a noise in the snow, hoping that sound was Norman - hoping he was running straight towards his boyfriend and not away from him. It was too cold out here, too windy, too snowy - someone as thin as Norman might freeze to death out here!

 

“Norman, please, just- just stop running, I just want to talk, I’m not mad at you! I just- I just want to  _ talk _ !”

 

And then he heard it. So tiny, so fragile, almost inaudible through the heavy wind, though the volume was very slowly growing:

 

“...’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, ‘m sorry, so sorry…”

 

It was muted, and the blizzard coming down in torrents of snow was making it difficult to tell  _ where _ it was coming from. But he was close.

 

Dipper was determined now, and fought even harder through the heavy wind, even if the piercing needles of frigid air made his face ache.

 

Finally, he saw a flash of red -  _ Norman’s scarf _ \- and chased it, reaching out against the freezing gusts.

 

Still, Norman ran, as if trying to get away from him. What was he trying to get away from so badly? 

 

What had Dipper said wrong?

 

“Norman, stop running,  _ please _ !”

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ !” The medium screamed, but still he ran, still he eluded Dipper’s grasp.

 

The older man hadn’t wanted to do this. But there was no other choice now. He lunged forward, fingers grasping the end of the scarf - only for it to come completely loose from Norman’s neck.

 

_ No! _ He’d failed!

 

“Norman!” He fell to his knees in the snow, toppled by his own momentum. He couldn’t lose him in this blinding white cold again, he couldn’t...

 

He heard a thump, and looked up to see a dark mass having fallen to the ground.

 

Norman had stumbled.

 

As quick as he could manage with how numb his legs now were, Dipper pushed himself forward to the huddled, trembling ball of boyfriend in front of him.

 

“Oh,  _ Norman _ ,” he breathed as he wrapped his arms around him.

 

“D-don’t…” the younger man replied in a tiny, scared voice. “You… you should just go. Leave me out here.”

 

“Wh- _ what _ ?!” Dipper choked out, shocked. “Are you- are you  _ serious _ ?! You’ll die out here!”

 

“I’m dangerous - you need to  _ go _ !”

 

“I’m not leaving you-”

 

“Why  _ not _ ?” Norman still tried weakly to push away from Dipper, though he wasn’t making much progress. Either he was too cold or his heart wasn’t in it - and Dipper dearly hoped it was the latter. “How can you still want to be anywhere near me knowing what I did to him?”

 

“What you did to  _ who _ ? What are you even talking about?” Now, he was baffled on top of everything else.

 

Norman froze, no longer trying to push away from Dipper. Though, he wasn’t exactly trying to get any closer to him, either.

 

“What… what are  _ you _ talking about?”

 

Gently - so gently - Dipper raised one of his hands from where he was holding Norman to lightly run his fingers along one of the cuts. Norman’s body went rigid when he caught the implication, his blue eyes beginning to well with tears that he refused to let fall.

 

“I- I’m sorry-” he began.

 

“Pacifica told me everything,” the older man continued softly. “Norman… why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“You weren’t even conscious…”

 

“I mean after. Norman, you…” Dipper sighed heavily. “I don’t like seeing you in so much pain. I want to be there for you. Trust me.  _ Talk _ to me.”

 

Norman’s lower lip trembled a little, but still he refused to break.

 

“You shouldn’t want that, Dip,” he said in a small voice.

 

“Why not? Because the lightning thing? I already told you I’m not afraid of that.”

 

“You should be. I could  _ kill _ you!”

 

“You don’t know that-”

 

“Yes I do!” Now, Norman’s face crumpled completely, and horrible, gut-wrenching sobs wracked his whole body. Not strong enough to try and push away anymore, he collapsed against Dipper.

 

The older man’s mind raced as he tried to glean what Norman was implying. If he was saying he knew his powers could be fatal…

 

“...Norman, you… you think your powers killed someone?”

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” the medium apologised again, barely getting the words out through his sobs. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to, I’m- I’m s-sorry!”

 

“H-hey, hey, it’s okay!” Dipper didn’t know where to even begin, so he just held Norman closer, as if trying to shield his frail form from the painfully cold winds with his own body.

 

“It’s  _ not _ okay,” Norman sobbed. “Agent Shaw is dead because of  _ me _ ! I- What right do I have to decide whether someone lives or dies?!”

 

“Wait, you’re upset over Agent Shaw? That guy who tied me up and  _ interrogated _ me?! Norman, that guy was a total asshole!”

 

“That doesn’t mean he deserves to  _ die _ !” The sobs wracking Norman’s frame got more intense, and Dipper could only hold him tighter as if to keep him steady. “He was just doing his job… No one deserves to die for that… Except for-”

 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ say ‘except for me’, Norman!” Dipper felt his pulse quicken, and his chest began to close up, but he wouldn’t let himself panic. Not now. Not when Norman needed him to be strong.

 

“I…” More sobs - Loud, terrible, uncontrolled sobs - and then, quietly, “I’m a monster…”

 

Dipper didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like his heart was shattering - how long had Norman felt like that? How long had he been so focused on their journey that he hadn’t even noticed his boyfriend suffering? And what on earth could he do to show Norman he  _ wasn’t _ a monster, not even a little bit?!

 

He did the only thing he could think of. He held Norman closer - practically in his lap - and pressed a soft, loving kiss to the edge of the self-inflicted cuts on his forehead.

 

Norman stiffened at the feel of gentle lips on his forehead, but he didn’t say anymore.

 

Dipper continued to press kisses to the wounds before murmuring against his forehead, “you’re not a monster, Norman. You never meant to do any harm - if you were a monster, you’d want to kill people.”

 

“He’s dead. It doesn’t matter what I meant.”

 

“Yes it  _ does _ !” Dipper insisted. “I’ve  _ never _ believed you were a monster, Norman. You’re a good person - maybe the best person I’ve ever met. Think of all the people you’ve helped. Think of me and Mabel and Pacifica and Neil and your whole town. All the ghosts you helped move on - think of Emily or that little pageant girl or- or  _ Agatha _ ! Would a monster have helped any of those people?”

 

“I…” Norman didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Dipper didn’t give him time to figure it out:

 

“Bill Cipher is a monster, okay? He’s the one who pushed you to lose control in the first place - it’s a sick game to him! He doesn’t care who lives or who dies, as long as he wins.  _ That’s _ what makes a monster. You? You’re no monster. You’re a hero…”

 

“N-no, I-”

 

“You’re  _ my _ hero, Norman. You always have been. When you ‘lost control’ like that, you did it to save my life. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. You know that, right?”

 

Norman sniffled loudly. “I… I guess…”

 

“Not ‘you guess’ - you were trying to save me, weren’t you?

 

Another loud sniffle. Then, a tiny nod. Yes, that had been what Norman was trying to do. Underneath all the anger, he’d really only wanted to save Dipper.

 

“And you succeeded - I’m alive right now, because of  _ you _ . A ‘monster’ wouldn’t have done that, would they?” 

 

The medium didn’t reply. But he allowed himself to wilt a little against Dipper - and it made Dipper only more determined to keep going:

 

“They wouldn’t have. You know they wouldn’t have.  _ Bill _ wouldn’t have done that - he  _ didn’t _ do that, he’s using all these FBI mooks as his pawns and abandoning them to die when they’re no longer useful. Me? I wasn’t useful lying there in a pool of my own blood and arm guts and you  _ still _ fought to save me. You  _ are _ a hero, Norman!”

 

“You’re useful…” Norman’s voice was weak, but he wasn’t trying to get away anymore.

 

“So are you. I need you, okay?” Now, Dipper let himself sound more emotional, now that he was sure his boyfriend would no longer fight it. “I’ve been acting like I’m the one trying to be the bigshot hero, like you’re the one who needs me, but the truth is I’m not  _ half _ as strong as you are. Bill knows that, and I know it too. I  _ need _ you.”

 

“I…” The medium paused. Then - finally - he collapsed against Dipper’s chest again, clinging with trembling, cold hands to the fabric of his shirt. “I need you, too…”

 

“Then let’s stick together - no more hiding things from each other. No more secrets. Bill wants to drive us apart, wants us to feel isolated and hopeless until we feel like we have no choice but to give in. But… it’s like we said back at the hospital. Whatever happens, we go through this together. We’re gonna beat him. Together.”

 

(Dipper reflected on his own words, on how much he knew in this moment that he wanted them to be true. He didn’t want to be isolated either. Maybe Norman wasn’t the only person he needed to be apologising too…)

 

“I’m sorry I tried to run away,” Norman confessed, still clinging to the older man. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I wasn’t okay. I  _ want _ to do this together, I do.”

 

“Then let’s,” Dipper kissed his forehead again. “Come on. Let’s go back to the van, okay? It’s fucking  _ freezing _ out here.”

 

The younger man nodded, and the two begun to rise…

 

...only to be interrupted by a sudden blindingly-bright light, a deafening noise.

 

Before it even registered to him what had happened, Dipper felt himself thrown back with a sudden, forceful burst of hot air.  _ ‘ An explosion…?’ _ Seemingly of their own accord, his arms tightened their grip around Norman, and he spun so that it was his back that scraped along the ground - whatever had just happened had melted all the snow around it - as the two young men were thrown backwards.

 

He couldn’t see a damn thing.  _ Whatever _ had just happened seemed to have temporarily blinded him, and his ears were ringing loudly. But he could feel his back stinging from where it had been scraped up, he could feel where there would be bruises where Norman had elbowed him when they’d toppled over like that.

 

He could hear (over the constant ringing in his ears) Norman groaning groggily, and his vision wasn’t coming back fast enough. Everything was blurry, shades of grey and silver and too white, like the reflection of the sun off of a mirror. It was  _ painful _ to try and make his eyes focus.

 

Still, he fought to regain his vision anyway. The curiosity - the not knowing what had just happened - that was far more painful to Dipper.

 

And it was then that he realised that his vision wasn’t failing him at all.

 

No, the object that had crashed in front of them was just  _ that big _ . Impossibly smooth, impossibly bright silver-white, with no seams that could be found anywhere on it - Dipper couldn’t tell if it was made of platinum or mercury or diamond or chrome or  _ what _ .

 

Something clicked in his brain and he gasped, sitting up a little straighter.

 

“Holy shit… Holy  _ shit _ , Norman, please see me you see this too!”

 

The medium rolled himself off Dipper and squinted as he replied, “I definitely see it… but what, exactly, am I looking at?”

 

There was only one thing it could possibly be.

 

“A UFO,” Dipper breathed reverently.

 

“What,” Norman responded flatly.

 

“It’s an object, it’s unidentified, and it just crashed from the sky where it was flying - it’s a UFO, Norman!”

 

As if to punctuate this - before Norman could even come up with a reply - a door just seemed to  _ appear _ in the gently curved side of the crashed object. Dipper wouldn’t have believed it possible if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Nothing had opened, there had been no visible seams on the UFO, and yet there was an opening, right there, where just moments before there had been nothing but that monotone whiteness.

 

Dipper held his breath. The anticipation was unbelievable.

 

And then  _ they _ appeared.

 

There were two of them, not quite as tall as Dipper was - maybe around Pacifica’s height, 5’2 or so - with smooth, greyish, veiny skin and arms too long for their tiny bodies. They were gaunt - nearly skeletal - and were completely hairless and smooth looking, with no mouth or nose other than a thin slit near the bottom of their oversized, oblong heads with large, black, wraparound compound eyes, like those of a fly or an ant. 

 

He knew immediately what they were. If this was a downed UFO, then there was only one possibility for the two forms stumbling out of the craft.

 

Finally, after everything, here were real aliens, right here in front of him!

 

“Oh my god,” he could hear Norman say beside him, and he reached out to grab his hand.

 

“I know,” Dipper replied. “ _ Aliens _ .”

 

The creatures slowly walked closer, and Dipper tightened his grip on Norman’s hand. He didn’t know what their intentions were at all. 

 

The aliens, for their part, began flashing coloured patterns across the skin in their face, the visible veins lighting up with shades of pink and teal and yellow in a seemingly random sequence.

 

_ What? _

 

“What are they doing?” he whispered.

 

“I think they’re trying to communicate,” Norman responded. Of course. That made sense. Why would Dipper assume alien beings would just talk to him in English, or with any language at all?

 

He stared at them, watching the colours flash across their skin. It was strangely mesmerising. He wished he could figure out what it was they were trying to tell them. They  _ had _ to be trying to tell them something - if they’d wanted to attack them, they’d have done so already.

 

Dipper looked into one of those strange, compound eyes, trying to figure out how to communicate to the aliens that he couldn’t  _ understand _ them. It was Norman who stood up - pulling Dipper up with him - and held up his free hand in a gesture of greeting, as if to tell them he meant them no harm.

 

The aliens exchanged looks, and more coloured flashes, before one of them stepped forward and placed a three-fingered hand on Norman’s forehead, the elongated fingers burrowing into the black-brown spikes of hair.

 

Dipper watched in awe as Norman’s eyes went wide, the pupils constricting until they were almost no longer visible. The blue of his irises - that beautiful shade of blue that somehow held the entire universe, that colour Dipper had always loved so much - started flashing those same colours, in tandem with the veins under the skin of the alien that was holding his head like that.

 

Norman gasped, shakily, and Dipper jumped, demanding:

 

“N-Norman, are they hurting you?!”

 

“I’m not hurt,” the medium whispered, a single tear escaping one of those kaleidoscope eyes. “But  _ they _ are. Dipper, they- they’re showing me their  _ memories _ …”

 

That was surprising - and just a little jealousy-inducing, though Dipper pushed that part to the side, figuring that these aliens, like so many other paranormal creatures they’d met over the years, knew intrinsically that Norman was different, somehow. Special. Norman was the most special thing on this planet - of course the aliens knew that.

 

“What are they showing you?” He squeezed Norman’s hand, as if to anchor him.

 

Norman’s eyes flashed purple and green and orange, and he looked terrified as he answered:

 

“There… there are places in the universe, like where they’re from, that contain…  _ nothing _ . Nothing whatsoever. No stars. No galaxies, no planets. But not just that - there’s no matter or energy whatsoever! A-and that’s… that’s impossible, but it’s true, there’s no atoms, no subatomic particles, no radiation, no dark matter… there’s _ nothing there _ . A space a thousand times bigger than our galaxy and it’s completely empty!”

 

“What happened to it?” Dipper asked.

 

“ _ Bill _ did - Dipper, they’re not here to hurt anyone. They’re refugees. They’re  _ warning _ us. He’s trying to do the same thing here. But he needs a power source, like a rift in space-time, or a star going into supernova, or a really really big nuclear bomb, or...”

 

“...or your power,” the older man realised with a sharp intake of breath.

 

_ That  _ was why Bill wanted Norman’s power. That was why he’d been targeting Norman since they were teenagers - he  _ needed _ that power for his diabolical plan to… what, consume the Milky Way galaxy?

 

But something didn’t add up.

 

“Wait,” he murmured, “what about Linda Cortile? What about the abduction we saw - what about our investigation?”

 

More colours flashed across Norman’s irises, and his face looked confused and scared. Dipper just wanted to kiss that fear away, but he waited to hear the explanation.

 

“They… they never abducted Linda Cortile,” Norman answered. “Their species tried to come to Earth seeking asylum after Bill… it took them decades to get here, and when one of their ships crashed at Roswell, they… they didn’t think Earth was safe. The US government took that ship, Dipper.  _ They’re _ the ones who would have had the technology to…”

 

“But why would the  _ government _ abduct Linda?”

 

“They don’t know” Norman confessed.

 

Dipper frowned. It didn’t make any sense. The government wouldn’t just use alien technology to abduct some random woman. Not unless…

 

“It was a trap,” he realised, his voice sounding hollow and far away. “I- I thought Bill possessed Agent Collins because we were wanted, but I had it backwards. We’re wanted because Bill possessed Agent Collins!”

 

“...they think that makes sense,” the younger man admitted.

 

“He- he possessed an FBI agent, abducted some woman in the same city we lived in because he  _ knew _ I’d take the bait, sent us to Montauk so that the security cameras would catch us, and then let the FBI hunt us across the nation so he could sit back and wait for us to get caught!” With every piece of the puzzle finally falling into place, Dipper was getting more and more angry. “This whole time - this  _ whole _ time - we’ve been fighting for our lives just to survive, and it’s just been a giant  _ game _ to him! He  _ used _ my obsession to try and get to you!”

 

Now he was furious. Bill Cipher had played them like a fiddle. Not only that, he had managed to play the entire United States government, and its terrified citizens - all to get to  _ Norman _ .

 

And Dipper had bought right into it. Hook, line, and sinker! He’d chased after the bait Bill left and dragged Norman into this mess, into Bill’s carefully laid trap. 

 

“Well, no more,” he growled.

 

“Wh-what?” Norman asked.

 

“No more! We’re not going to play his games anymore! I won’t let him destroy the universe - and I won’t let him touch you, never again!”

 

“Dipper…” the medium pulled away from the alien, stepped towards his boyfriend. “I don’t know how we’re going to do that.”

 

“N-neither do I,” Dipper admitted with a blush. “But I know we  _ can _ . Somehow. We’ve done it before.”

 

“We had Mabel and Pacifica before…”

 

“I know,” he nodded. “And… we have them now. We’re going to go back to California. We’re going to find a way to kick Bill’s  _ ass _ for doing this to us. And then…”

 

“And then?” Norman asked, his blue eyes questioning. Dipper had missed seeing emotion in them.

 

“...and then we’ll figure it out from there. Together.”

 

“Together,” Norman nodded. Then, “Dipper?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can… we go back to the van? I’m cold. And tired.”

 

He nodded in reply, and looked up at the aliens, who were beginning to walk back to their ship. 

 

“H-hey!” He called out to them. “Th-thank you…”

 

The aliens both flashed a cool, serene blue at Dipper. He didn’t know what it meant. But it was comforting, nonetheless.

 

The boys made it back to the van, cuddling in the back seat for the night under every blanket and item of extra clothing they had, just in time to see another bright flash of light - the alien spaceship rising into the sky.

 

“...hey, Dip?” Norman’s voice was so small and tiny, Dipper almost didn’t hear it.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do… you think they’ll ever find a home?”

 

Dipper almost wanted to laugh. That question was so  _ Norman _ \- even after everything, the younger man still wanted to make sure everyone was safe and happy. He had no idea how anyone could ever think someone so good could ever be a monster. And he hoped someday he could convince Norman of that goodness in himself, too.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But… I want to believe that they will.”

 

***

 

They were awoken the next morning not by the sun, but by a loud, commanding voice which yelled through a megaphone:

 

“Step out of the van with your hands up! We have you surrounded!”

 

Dipper blinked his eyes open, disoriented and confused. Where were they…?

 

And that’s when the entire night came back to him in a flash of sudden memories. Norman running out into the blizzard, Norman breaking down, the decision to go back to California, the horrible revelation about Bill, the  _ aliens _ !

 

“Damn it,” he sat up, pulling Norman up with him as well. It was difficult to see outside the frosted windows of the van, but he could make out black blobs all around them that he just knew were FBI vehicles, like the ones back in Roswell.

 

“Dipper,” Norman groaned groggily, “what is-”

 

“Step out of the van, hands on your head!” The same voice continued to call from the outside “You’re under arrest - resistance is futile!”

 

“ _ Damn _ it,” Dipper repeated, jumping into the front seat. 

 

What was he going to do? They finally had the start of a plan - they had  _ finally _ found the aliens, they had to get back to San Francisco, back to Mabel and Pacifica - Dipper couldn’t accept that this was the end.

 

He  _ wouldn’t _ accept that.

 

He wouldn’t let them take Norman away from him again. He wouldn’t let Bill win. If he was going to go down, he was going to go down fighting, on his own terms.

 

He started the van.

 

“Come out of the van  _ now _ !” Whoever was calling into the megaphone didn’t seem to like that. “Do  _ not _ try to escape - we have you surrounded! If you surrender now, we won’t hurt you!”

 

“Yeah, fat chance,” Dipper muttered under his breath, waiting for the van to warm enough enough to… what, run these guys down? What was he going to do? How was he going to get  _ out _ of this?

 

Not seeing any other option here - other than surrender, which was definitely  _ not _ an option, as far as Dipper was concerned - he instructed Norman:

 

“Put your seatbelt on. And hold on.”

 

The medium climbed into the front seat and did as he was told, bracing himself for what he knew what was coming.

 

Dipper floored it, spinning the steering wheel and causing the van to spin on the ice with a loud  _ screeeeee _ , directly into the snowy cornfield where Norman had run the night before.

 

It was difficult to keep control of the van, but he didn’t take his foot off the gas pedal, he didn’t take his hands off the steering wheel. Even when the sirens sounded from behind him, Dipper didn’t stop. His heart was racing as quickly as the van was going. But he couldn’t stop. He  _ wouldn’t _ stop.

 

“Don’t worry,” he told Norman, “I won’t let them catch you.”

 

“I know,” the medium was gripping onto the door with both hands, knuckles white. His blue eyes were blown wide, afraid. He didn’t want to be caught any more than Dipper did.

 

The older of the pair could feel his chest beginning to constrict with panic, but he turned the van sharply into more ice-covered corn. It tipped dangerously to one side, almost threatening to topple over, and Dipper could hear his boyfriend whine a little from the back of his throat, but he somehow -  _ miraculously _ \- managed to keep control of the vehicle. 

 

“Dipper?” Norman asked, his voice trembling just slightly.

 

“I’m gonna protect you,” Dipper said. “I  _ won’t _ let Bill win!”

 

“Dipper?” The medium repeated more insistently, gesturing with his chin - afraid to let go with his hands, lest he go flying through the still-frosty windshield - towards a helicopter that was currently flying overhead, monitoring the chase.

 

“Aw,  _ seriously _ ?!” The older man groaned, wishing he could make the damn van go faster. The feds were closing in on them, and fast. He wasn’t sure he could handle watching Norman get tased again, or being back at that facility. He only had one more good arm, after all.

 

He turned the van again, back onto the road - or at least back onto  _ a _ road. The ice caused the van to spin dangerously again, causing Norman to slam into the door with a little cry of pained surprise.

 

“I’m sorry!” Dipper yelled, fighting desperately to regain control of his vehicle before the FBI caught up to them. As soon as it stopped spinning, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor yet again, not even sure what direction they were going. He didn’t even care, he just knew he had to get them as far away as possible from the FBI and from that helicopter.

 

He swerved onto an offshoot of the road as soon as they got too close, not even able to read the green sign on the side of the road as they sped past it, muttering under his breath about how they had to find a way out, they had to find some way to keep Norman away from Bill!

 

Up ahead of them was a lake - or perhaps a big pond - iced over on the top.

 

The black vehicles behind them were closer than ever, enough that if Dipper didn’t come up with a way out of here soon, they’d crash right into the van in order to get to their prey.

 

“There’s only one way out,” he realised, voice hollow. 

 

“You don’t mean-”

 

“Do you have any better ideas?! We can’t let Bill win - we can’t let him destroy the galaxy!”

 

“I know…” the medium murmured.

 

“For the record, I wish there was another way out of this…”

 

Norman sighed, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable. Then, he reached over and placed his hand over Dipper’s.

 

“I love you,” he said.

 

Dipper nodded. “I know.”

 

And then, the van plunged into the icy depths of the lake, sinking beyond where even the FBI could reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!


	18. Pisces

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Pacifica had her own Christmas traditions.

 

Christmas at Northwest Mansion had been lonely at best - and a warzone at worst. At thirteen, she had taken it upon herself to at least start the day well, to give herself something to look forward to other than the bitterness and resentment she’d learned to associate with the holiday. She’d taken to going to Starbucks, every Christmas morning, to get one of their holiday drinks. 

 

Even after she’d moved out with Mabel, she’d kept up the tradition. It had kept her sane back in Oregon, and she’d missed it the one year she’d gone without it. Now, she always got two - something extra caffeinated for her, and something extra sweet for Mabel.

 

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect for when she got back to the apartment. Normally on Christmas, she woke up before Mabel and returned to the brunette girl wanting to watch Christmas movies or unwrap presents or make gingerbread houses or something. But with how crazy things had been lately, even Mabel’s holiday spirit was waning. 

 

But nothing could have possibly prepared Pacifica for what she was to come home to that Christmas morning.

 

Mabel was on their couch when the blonde got back to their apartment, staring straight ahead at the television blankly instead of smiling and singing along with Christmas songs on some overly-schmaltzy television special.

 

“I got you a peppermint hot chocolate,” she set one of the red cups down on the coffee table, clutching her own drink to her chest. “What are you watching?”

 

Mabel didn’t even offer so much as a “Merry Christmas” in reply. That was unlike her. Pacifica’s blue-green eyes narrowed as she took in her girlfriend’s body language.

 

The brunette was pale, the rosiness in her cheeks having disappeared completely. Her eyes were blown wide, and the sparkle that normally danced in their brown depths was nowhere to be found. Her lips were pursed tightly, and - if Pacifica wasn’t mistaken - her hands, clutched into fists around the fabric of her pyjama pants, were shaking ever so slightly.

 

Something was seriously wrong with Mabel.

 

Concern flooding her entire tiny form, Pacifica whipped her head around towards the television to see just  _ what _ it was that had her girlfriend so upset. On the television, Mabel wasn’t watching any holiday special, but rather the news. Of course it was the news. What had Dipper done  _ now _ ?

 

“...authorities chased the men down for a good fifteen to twenty minutes,” one of the two reporters was saying, and the news programme cut to footage taken from the air of black FBI-issue SUVs chasing a familiar beat up old white van down an icy stretch of road in the middle of nowhere.

 

Pacifica felt her lungs tighten just a little, her heart beat faster. Those two idiots weren’t dumb enough to get caught again, were they?

 

“Though the dangerous terrorists were not taken into custody,” the reporter’s voice continued, “their van soon spun out of control into a nearby reservoir. They’re presumed dead by authorities. America’s terror is over.”

 

“Thank you, Santa Claus,” the other news reporter joked at his colleague.

 

Pacifica couldn’t believe it. Dipper and Norman were…

 

... _ dead _ ?

 

Suddenly, she  _ screamed _ , dropping her drink to the floor and wailing as her shoulders shook with uncontrollable sobs. The tears burst forth from her eyes in waterfalls and she couldn’t control it at all, not when it felt like the entire world was crashing down around her. Dipper and Norman were the closest thing to family she  _ had _ \- they couldn’t be gone! They just couldn’t!

 

She couldn’t even hear whatever those assholes on the news were saying now - she couldn’t hear anything except the sound of her own horrible sobs that took over her entire frame. Pacifica just couldn’t handle the fact that half her family was gone. Mabel was all she had left now, and she reached out with a timid hand, like a small child seeking comfort, wanting so badly for Mabel to just hold her and cry with her and keep her grounded before she drowned in her own tears.

 

But Mabel didn’t react. She didn’t even seem to notice Pacifica was there. She just stared forward blankly, numb to everything around her.

 

“Mabel,” Pacifica pleaded weakly, through more loud sobs. “Mabel,  _ please _ , I- I need you. Please…”

 

Still, Mabel said nothing, and the blonde girl was left to break down on her own. She couldn’t do anything but collapse to the couch and bawl against the cushions, keeping a hand outstretched towards Mabel, seeking the comfort that never came.

 

***

 

_ BLITHE HOLLOW, MASSACHUSETTS _

 

Perry Babcock had never heard his wife make a noise like that before, not in all the years he’d known her.

 

They’d just turned the television on as background noise as they sat down on their couch to exchange their small gifts for one another, when the local broadcast of “A Christmas Story” had been interrupted by an urgent news bulletin.

 

He had recognised the ugly white van immediately. Perry hadn’t been happy with the news lately, with the way they made his son look like some sort of monster hell-bent on destroying America - how did those media fat cats think that made the Babcock family look?! 

 

And he couldn’t even get Norman’s side of the story - every time he tried to call, all that he got in return was a computerised voice telling him, “We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

 

But when the news showed the van sinking into the icy waters of a reservoir in Wyoming, Perry could feel his heart sinking, too. He may not have been happy with Norman’s decision to follow Dipper to Montauk - or where it had gotten Norman - but he didn’t want his only son to  _ drown _ , either.

 

And that’s when he heard the loud, keening wail from Sandra’s side of the couch.

 

During the entire duration of their marriage, Sandra had  _ never _ been a loud woman, leaving all the yelling to Perry. She was all softness and gentleness - something so noisy and raw just seemed  _ wrong _ coming from her.

 

“Sandra-” he began, but was cut off by her wails:

 

“My baby!” Sandra cried out, drowning out whatever the news was saying about their son. 

 

Their only son - Perry remembered how small he’d been when they’d brought baby Norman home from the hospital, he remembered the absolute thrill of having a little boy, he remembered signing him up for baseball…

 

...he had to push these memories down. Sandra was still bawling in that horrifically  _ raw _ way that just didn’t suit her. Her worst fears as a mother had just come true, and Perry could only watch in horror as his wife completely lost it.

 

“My baby,” she repeated, over and over. “My poor baby, my son, my  _ Norman _ ! Oh god, Perry, tell me it’s not true, tell me it’s a nightmare! Oh my god, Norman...”

 

Perry could feel the tears beginning to well in his eyes. Their baby son, their youngest child - gone, without even a body to be buried, and here the news was celebrating! How dare they?!

 

He choked back sobs of his own, not allowing any tears to escape as he reached out for the remote to shut the TV off. He couldn’t watch anymore. He had to be strong. For Sandra.

 

He bottled his emotions up completely as he pulled her close and let her sob against him so he wouldn’t have to look into her blue eyes.

 

Blue like Norman’s eyes…

 

***

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Mabel hadn’t moved from that spot all day.

 

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything except sit there and  _ not think _ about the horrible reality.

 

Maybe it was naïve of her, but she’d never once considered the possibility of her brother - her  _twin brother_ \- dying before her. Or at all, really. It was the worst pain she could ever imagine, it was as if someone had ripped her heart out and left the wound to fester and infect.

 

She wished it were her instead.

 

At least then she wouldn’t have to feel this horrible despair. She’d never have an argument with Dipper about aliens or bigfoot or gnomes or something again. She’d never hear him laugh at some awful pun she’d made, she’d never see him wear the same flannel three days in a row, she’d never again see that  _ stupid _ birthmark.

 

She hated it. She hated  _ him _ . How could he  _ do _ this to her? She wanted to cry, to scream, to tear out her hair, but she couldn’t even breathe without using up all her concentration to do so.

 

It barely even registered to her what Pacifica was saying into the phone:

 

“Yeah… yeah, I’ll tell her to call you back. Thank you… bye, Mrs. Pines…”

 

The blonde sighed and hung up the cell phone, before sitting down on the couch next to Mabel, reaching out and placing a hand on her girlfriend’s knee.

 

“Your parents keep trying to get ahold of you, you know,” Pacifica tried.

 

Still, Mabel didn’t react. It was as if she couldn’t react. All she could do was stare ahead blankly and struggle to remember how to breathe. Dipper had stolen her voice, he had stolen her will to do anything when his body had sunk to the bottom of some stupid pond in fucking Wyoming of all places.

 

“I…” the blonde tried again, “I… don’t know a lot about how normal families work, but… your mom sounded really upset. She and your dad miss him, too, you know. They really want to talk to you.”

 

Brown eyes still stared blankly ahead, numb to everything around them. Pacifica chewed on her bottom lip, not sure what to say.

 

“You… you know Dipper and Norman wouldn’t want this for you, right?” she asked. No reply. Of course not. “They’d want you to talk to your parents.”

 

Nothing.

 

“Mabel, they need you…”

 

Still no reply. The blonde spoke again, her voice cracking as fresh tears sprang to her eyes:

 

“Mabel,  _ I _ need you!”

 

But Mabel still said nothing. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t even feel. 

 

***

 

Christmas ended and Pacifica had to sleep alone. Mabel still wasn’t talking to her and it was killing her. She’d forgotten what it was like to feel this alone, and it was so much worse now than it had ever been when she was a little girl.

 

It just wasn’t  _ fair _ . Now that she knew what it was like to love someone like that, the closest thing to a family she’d ever had was torn away from her. Norman and Dipper were gone and nothing was going to bring them back, and Mabel - sweet, beautiful Mabel who was usually so good at comforting her - had completely shut down. Pacifica couldn’t  _ stand _ it!

 

She couldn’t keep doing this.

 

She couldn’t keep pleading with Mabel to even just look at her, to be there for her when she was all Pacifica had left, not when Mabel had frozen her out completely. She had to get her mind off of it for awhile. She had to escape.

 

Of course, the problem with Norman and Dipper being wanted terrorists was that there was no escape.

 

When she walked down the street, TVs in the windows played that same grainy footage of the van sinking below the icy lake.

 

When she walked into a café to buy a bagel so she could try to force herself to eat something, news about it was on the radio.

 

When she took MUNI down to Union Square for some much-needed retail therapy, the people on the train with her wouldn’t shut up about it.

 

It was like the universe was shoving her grief down her throat. Pacifica couldn’t escape it.

 

In a fit of desperation, she ducked into the Chanel boutique on Maiden Lane, hoping that a high end designer store, at least, would give her a break from this soul-crushing despair. Pacifica knew fashion. She understood designer fashion, she could take comfort in this, and they had  _ shoes _ in here, and-

 

“Can I help you find something?” the shopgirl on duty asked her. 

 

Pacifica sighed. This was almost normal. She could do this. Maybe she could have just a second of peace.

 

“Thanks again for the help on those shoes,” another customer waved at the shopgirl before Pacifica could answer, and the employee waved back, calling out as the customer left:

 

“Happy holidays!”

 

And just like that, Pacifica’s second of peace was completely shattered.

 

How could she think she could escape when Norman and Dipper had  _ died _ \- on Christmas morning of all days!? Pacifica could never have a ‘happy holiday’ again! 

 

She broke down for what must have been at least the tenth time in the last couple of days, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks and onto the floor of the Chanel boutique as she tried and failed to suppress sobs that just wouldn’t stop.

 

“U-um,” the poor sales clerk didn’t seem to know how to react, “a-are you okay?”

 

Pacifica shook her head.

 

“I- I’m sorry,” she choked out between sobs at the baffled sales girl. “I’m sorry, I- my brother just died…”

 

It didn’t even feel like a lie. Norman  _ was _ her brother, just as much as Dipper was Mabel’s. He’d once told her, after all, that she could choose her family. She’d chosen him, a thousand times over - and it made no difference now. He was gone.

 

“I…” the bewildered shopgirl didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Pacifica almost felt bad for her. Awkwardly, she offered, “Y-you’re… not alone? I mean, they do say this time of year is most common for, like, suicides and stuff- I- I mean- h-here, let me go get you some sweaters or something to look at!”

 

Suicide? Is that what this had been?

 

Pacifica almost couldn’t bear to think about that possibility. But in the hospital in Quebec, Norman had felt so hopeless he’d actually  _ hurt _ himself over it. And when she’d tried to make things right by telling Dipper, Dipper had completely freaked out!

 

Had she and Mabel failed them somehow?

 

Enough that they wanted to kill themselves?

 

Suddenly feeling sick, she left the boutique before the poor, awkward sales girl could come back with her fancy sweaters. Pacifica suddenly didn’t care about high fashion anymore.

 

***

 

_ BLITHE HOLLOW, MASSACHUSETTS _

 

It was right around dinnertime when Courtney pulled up to her childhood home. She hadn’t even told her fiancée she’d left, she just couldn’t be at home in Connecticut right now. She needed to be with her family.

 

At least what was  _ left _ of her family.

 

She kept thinking if only she had been there in Wyoming., she could have pulled Norman out of the water. She knew it was illogical, but the thought wouldn’t leave her head. She was his big sister - she was supposed to protect him! And yeah, maybe she hadn’t always done the best job of that? And maybe Norman was an adult now, and not the tiny child he’d been at eleven? But Courtney still wished she’d been there to… to do  _ something _ for her precious baby brother.

 

Her fiancée didn’t understand. Oh, he’d tried. But he couldn’t possibly understand the pain of losing her baby brother. Maybe her mom and dad would. 

 

Courtney just needed someone to understand.

 

Her mother was the one who answered the door.

 

“C-Courtney-” Sandra’s voice was hollow, her eyes rimmed red and puffy.

 

“ _ Mom _ !” Courtney cried out, reaching for her mother like a child.

 

“Come inside,” Sandra took her daughter’s arms. “Thank god you’re here, Courtney. Thank god you’re alright…”

 

The young woman couldn’t think why she  _ wouldn’t _ be alright (Physically, at least), but she understood what her mother meant, anyway. It was less ‘thank god you’re safe’ and more ‘thank god I haven’t lost both of my kids’.

 

Courtney sniffled, wiping at her eyes. God, how much had she cried since she’d heard the news?

 

“Are you and Dad holding up okay?”

 

“Is that Courtney?” Perry’s voice sounded from the kitchen, and he poked his head into the living room, where the TV was still playing some mindless Christmas crap, even though the holiday was technically over.

 

(It hadn’t felt much like Christmas this year, anyway.  _ ‘Merry Christmas, Courtney - your brother is dead!’ _ )

 

“Dad,” Courtney could feel her lip wibbling pathetically as she sank down into the couch. “I… I had to come home…”

 

Her father sighed and came to sit next to her, placing one of his large, manly hands on his daughter’s shoulder in what was clearly meant to be a gesture of comfort. She leaned into his touch a little, the way she used to when she was a little girl. When Norman was still alive...

 

“I miss him so much,” she sniffled.

 

“We all do,” he nodded. “Your mother and I have been trying to plan a memorial service. We’d like it if you helped with that…”

 

“O-of course,” Courtney nodded, taking a shaky breath and trying to steady herself. “But… do you think people would come? I- I mean considering most of the neighbourhood probably thinks he was…”

 

“What, a terrorist?” As usual, Perry didn’t mince words. “He was my son and he’s getting a memorial service, no matter what lies the damn media wants to spread about him!”

 

“Okay,” she nodded again, somewhat numbly. She didn’t want to argue with her father about this. Norman wouldn’t have wanted that. “Wh-what about Dipper?”

 

“What about him?” Perry frowned. 

 

“Well… he and Norman were pretty in love, so… should we invite the Pines?”

 

Perry’s frown deepened. “Dipper’s the one who dragged Norman into this whole mess in the first place.”

 

“Perry, that’s not fair,” Sandra piped up.

 

“I told Norman not to go chasing that stuff,” Perry muttered. “I told him it was only going to get in trouble. If he’d listened to me…”

 

And suddenly, completely out of nowhere, Courtney was  _ angry _ , jumping up from the couch and whirling around to glare defiantly at her father. How dare he say these things when Norman had just  _ died _ ? How dare he?! 

 

“You know what, Dad? No!” She exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at her father. “Fuck you!”

 

“Courtney-” her father began, standing up to return his daughter’s glare with a steely gaze of his own, but she refused to be intimidated.

 

“Fuck you,” she repeated herself, fresh tears springing to her eyes yet again. She didn’t care if they spilled over. She was so angry! “You never  _ once _ supported him! Not once! And now he’s dead, and he died without ever once getting an ounce of respect from you!”

 

“Of  _ course _ I respected him!” Perry bellowed, “I just never respected any of that weird stuff - and that stuff only ended up getting him killed, so I think I have every right-”

 

“You have  _ no _ right!” She wouldn’t even let him finish that thought. “Even after he’s gone, all you can do is criticise him!”

 

“I was trying to protect him!”

 

“Yeah?! Well good fucking job of that, Dad! Because of you, he never felt safe here, and instead of seeking help here, with his  _ family _ , he went on the run and got killed! And we will  _ never _ get him back!” She was hysterical now. “We- we’ll never get to tell him we love him! He died thinking we didn’t love him!”

 

“It’s not my fault that he got himself involved with all that weird shit, Courtney!”

 

“That ‘weird shit’ was his whole life, Dad! I mean, for fuck’s sake, he talked to ghosts! What, did you think he was just going to become like a  _ lawyer _ or something?!”

 

“ _ STOP IT _ _!_ ” Sandra shrieked, drawing the attention of both her husband and her daughter. “Just- just stop it, both of you! Does this family really need to become any more  _ broken _ ?!”

 

Courtney and Perry exchanged looks, both completely shocked that Sandra had screamed at them like that.

 

“I- I’m sorry, mom,” she answered weakly, sniffling. “I’m just… we’re all upset, I guess. I just wish I could talk to him, one last time...”

 

Sandra sighed, heavily, as her husband placed his hand on her shoulder.

 

“We all wish that,” she told her daughter. “We all do.”

 

***

 

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

If Mabel didn’t talk to her soon, Pacifica was certain she would lose her damn mind. It had been days, and Mabel hadn’t moved from the couch except to pee. She hadn’t eaten any of the food Pacifica tried to give her, she hadn’t slept, she hadn’t even spoken. And the blonde wasn’t eating or sleeping well either, but at least she was  _ trying _ !

 

It hurt to see Mabel like this. It hurt a lot. Mabel was really all Pacifica had left - she didn’t know how to deal with phone calls from the Pines, or from Courtney, she was horrible at comforting people. She needed Mabel to help with that. She needed Mabel to comfort  _ her _ .

 

There was a knock on the door of their apartment, snapping the blonde out of her thoughts. Who could that be, at a time like this?

 

Her first thought, however irrational, was that it was the men in black, from the FBI. It was such a Dipper thought, and Pacifica felt her lungs clench up when she realised that. Mabel had always said they were more alike than they realised. It wasn’t fair that Pacifica only got to notice it now, after Dipper was gone…

 

The door knocked again, and Pacifica jumped. Of course Mabel wasn’t going to get it - Mabel wasn’t reacting to the sound at all! The blonde grumbled - couldn’t people just leave them to grieve in peace? - as she walked over and opened the door, a surly look on her blotchy red face.

 

Standing there, in the hallway, were two men she didn’t recognise. 

 

One of them - the shorter of the pair - was either very chubby or had way too many clothes on, including an oversized jacket just like that of the homeless man who hung out near Pacifica’s favourite sushi place. This man had big sunglasses and a bushy beard that almost looked fake, like she could pull it right off, like it was part of a “Duck Dynasty” halloween costume or something.

 

The taller man also had sunglasses, as well as a dark beanie and a scarf that covered up most of the bottom half of his face. He was also wearing a lot of clothes, to hide his body shape, too much for even a San Francisco winter.

 

Both of the strange men smelled as if they hadn’t bathed in days, and Pacifica was about to slam the door in their face and tell them to leave her alone - but her eyes drifted down to their hands, which were linked.

 

There, on their wrists, were two matching thread bracelets, with four colours each. Deep red, light blue, hot pink, and sunshine-y yellow. Just like the bracelet Mabel had on her wrist, just like the one on Pacifica’s ankle.

 

Pacifica’s teal eyes widened, and she gasped. It couldn’t be… could it?

 

She looked back up into their covered faces, and told the two men: 

 

“Come inside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe this is the last update of 2015?


	19. Waning Gibbous

_ WASHINGTON, D. C. _

 

“They  _ what _ ?!” Bill Cipher thundered into the phone, using Collins’ voice, as he had been for the last five  _ years _ he had spent stuck in this damn meat suit.

 

“They- they drove their van into the lake,” the agent on the other end of the line stammered. Normally, Bill would find this puny human’s nervousness quite entertaining, but right now he was  _ furious _ at the man’s incompetence. How could he have let Pine Tree and Little Ghost get away?! He never thought he’d think this, but he almost missed Agent Shaw.

 

He balled Collins’ hand into a fist, he could feel it trembling with his anger.

 

This plan had been laid out so carefully - Dipper and Norman had never seen it coming, it had been  _ genius _ \- and he’d barely had to do a thing after he had the FBI eating out of the palm of his hand. He’d worked so hard. This world was finally going to be his, he was finally going to get a chance to rip a hole in reality with that  _ delicious _ Prenderghast power - how  _ dare _ Norman think he could take that away from him?

 

“Sir?” the agent in Wyoming snapped him back to reality. Ugh.  _ Reality _ . How  _ mundane _ . How much longer would he have to put up with  _ that _ hot mess?

 

No, he wouldn’t give up that easily. What was five years in the face of the millenia he’d lived through?  There had to be a way. 

 

“Drain the reservoir,” he ordered, grasping at whatever straws he could find. “Bring Babcock’s body to the Facility when you find it.”

 

“I- I don’t know if we’re authorised to do that-”

 

“Then  _ get _ authorised! That’s an  _ order _ !” 

 

Not willing to put up with this man for one second longer - he was so tired of humans’ inability to look at the big picture - Bill slammed the phone down, his anger still causing this frail meat suit to tremble.

 

He had worked so  _ hard _ on this plan. He couldn’t give it up. Closing Collins’ eyes, Bill retreated into the Nightmare Realm, searching all the doors into people’s dreamscapes.

 

_ There _ .

 

Norman Babcock’s door. Wide open into that little forest grove of his. The same dreamscape that had belonged to the little girl all those centuries ago. These Prenderghasts were the only family Bill had ever seen in all the galaxies with a shared dreamscape like that. With a  _ power _ like that.

 

And the door was still open.

 

He hadn’t lost yet.

 

***

 

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

As soon as they were all safely in the apartment, Pacifica whirled around and tore off the beanies and scarf and sunglasses and fake beards. No one could see them in here, and they were all ugly as hell, anyway. Sure enough, standing before her - dirty and exhausted and definitely  _ not _ dead - were Dipper Pines and Norman Babcock.

 

All the sadness she’d been feeling the last few days, all the desperation and grief, all the  _ fear _ , twisted in her heart, and she could feel the rage bubbling up in her system.

 

“H-hey, Pacifica-” Norman started weakly, but she cut him off:

 

“Don’t ‘hey Pacifica’ me! After what you two just pulled?!”

 

“Hear us out-” Dipper tried, but she wouldn’t let him talk either:

 

“Three days, eight hours, and thirty-one minutes.”

 

“Pacifica-”

 

“Three  _ days _ , eight hours, and thirty one minutes we thought you were  _ dead _ !”

 

Dipper and Norman exchanged guilty expressions.

 

And then, she was yelling in their faces, tears streaming down her cheeks for the umpteenth time, “How  _ dare _ you?! How  _ dare _ you let us think we’d lost you?! Do you have  _ any _ idea what the past few days have been like?! How much I’ve cried over you?! I was fucking  _ terrified _ , you bastards!  _ How could you _ ?!”

 

“W-we’re sorry,” Norman offered quietly, in that same soft tone he’d first spoken to her in all those years ago. “We are.  _ I’m _ sorry, Pacifica. I’m sorry for scaring you. We didn’t want to hurt you…”

 

She didn’t reply to that. She didn’t have the words. She just bit her lip and glared up defiantly, trying to stubbornly will the tars to stop flowing. They wouldn’t.

 

“It was the only way to protect all of us from-” Dipper began, but then, incredibly, Norman turned to him and shook his head.

 

Pacifica’s shoulders drooped a little in confusion. What?

 

“Pacifica,” the medium turned back to his friend, “we never should have left you and Mabel here. We should have trusted you guys, after everything you’ve done for us… we’re going to do that now. If you’ll still let us, that is.”

 

Despite herself, she could feel the anger fading. Damn Norman - how was it that he  _ always _ knew exactly what to say to someone, exactly how to dig deep into their anger and dissolve it to find the true cause? How was he so  _ good _ at that?

 

“Please?” Norman gave her a look with those big, blue eyes of his.

 

And suddenly, she was sobbing, reaching out to him like a tiny child. He hesitated for only a few seconds before taking the bait, stepping forward so he could hold his friend and she could sob messily into his chest. Pacifica didn’t even care that his oversized coat smelled like car fumes and dirt. He was  _ here _ . That was all that mattered.

 

“I’m so sorry, Pacifica…” Norman murmured quietly, quiet enough that only she could hear it. And slowly, her sobs began to fade.

 

After a few minutes, she pulled away, sniffling in an attempt to avoid having to wipe her face on her sleeve. (She’d always hated doing that.)

 

And then, she turned to Dipper, who was still standing there somewhat awkwardly, watching the exchange between his boyfriend and his sister’s girlfriend.

 

“ _ You _ owe someone an apology, too,” she told him.

 

“I- I’m sorry, Pacifi-”

 

“Not. Me,” she gestured with her chin over to the couch, where Mabel was  _ still _ sitting there numbly.

 

Dipper’s face fell visibly, and Pacifica didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so pale. 

 

She watched, with bated breath, as he cautiously made his way over to the couch, taking a seat right next to Mabel.

 

The girl twin still didn’t react. It was as if she couldn’t see or hear anything that was going on around her. She’d completely shut herself off from the world in her grief.

 

“Mabel?” Dipper asked quietly. “Mabel, it’s me… I’m not dead. We faked it.”

 

Still, she didn’t react.

 

“Mabel, I’m sorry. I’m so  _ sorry _ . You were the last person I ever wanted to get hurt from all of this, and I feel  _ horrible _ that I’m the one who hurt you. I’m going to make it right, though. I will, I  _ promise _ you.”

 

Mabel still stared straight ahead, blankly. It was almost like she was steadfastly  _ refusing _ to react.

 

At a loss for what to do - Dipper never had been as good with words as Norman was - he did the only thing he had left. He wrapped his arms around his sister, pulled her close to his chest, and murmured again:

 

“I’m so sorry…”

 

And then, Mabel’s face crumpled and her shoulders began to shake as she finally allowed herself to feel again. She allowed herself to cry.

 

Pacifica turned away. This private moment of the Pines twins wasn’t meant for her, and it felt voyeuristic to keep watching.

 

“Come on,” she told Norman. “Into my room. I’ll loan you a scarf that doesn’t smell like lake muck and we’ll go get coffee while they do their… thing. You have some explaining to do. ”

 

“That’s fair,” Norman conceded, following her to do so.

 

Pacifica made Norman take off the awful smelly jacket, tossing him a blue sweater Mabel had knit and a black scarf, and loaning him a pair of aviator sunglasses that would look so much better than the shitty dollar store ones he had walked in with. 

 

Once he was dressed to her satisfaction, she took his hand and led him wordlessly out the door, past the Pines twins, and into the streets of San Francisco. The cold air was welcome on her face, which was warm and blotchy and red from all the crying. She normally wouldn’t be caught dead in public like this. She also normally wouldn’t be clinging to Norman’s hand the entire time. She didn’t care.

 

It wasn’t until they were seated with their coffees - at a table near the back of the local café - that she felt safe speaking:

 

“It was terrible, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know…” he at least had the decency to look guilty.

 

“We were destroyed,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You two really fucked up.”

 

“I- I know. I  _ am _ sorry, Pacifica.”

 

“So,” she took a sip. “How did you do it?”

 

***

 

_ WYOMING, THREE DAYS PRIOR _

 

Norman sighed as he watched the water out the windows of the van as it sank down. This reservoir wasn’t terribly deep, so hopefully the pressure wouldn’t be enough to break the windows - but this still wasn’t ideal.

 

It was funny - just the night before, he’d wanted to die. Now that he’d seen visions of galaxies far, far away from here, of just what it was he and Dipper had to stop, he no longer wanted that. Dipper wanted to fight Bill Cipher, and Norman wanted to… he didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t even know if he forgave himself or not. But he didn’t want to  _ die _ .

 

And yet, here they were, at the bottom of a lake in the middle of nowhere. Water was starting to trickle in from the tops of the windows, which never could roll up all the way. It was  _ freezing _ as it began to pool around Norman’s sneakers. He pulled his legs up to his chest, onto his seat, to delay freezing his toes off as long as possible.

 

“I can’t believe you Han Solo’d me,” was the first thing he said to Dipper.

 

“What, you didn’t think it sounded cool?” Dipper blushed, sheepish that his nerdy reference hadn’t flown over Norman’s head.

 

“I mean… you’re no Han Solo. If anything, you’re Luke.”

 

“Heh,” Dipper chuckled, squeezing one of Norman’s hands with his good hand. “You’re… making jokes again. I missed that.”

 

The medium paused, letting the realisation of that really sink in. He hadn’t even realised it, but Dipper was right - he hadn’t really been  _ himself _ since before Roswell. It all seemed so long ago, now. So much had changed.

 

“So,” he sighed, “please tell me you have a plan to get us out of here.”

 

“We can’t open the doors yet,” Dipper nodded. “But enough water gets in, the pressure will be equalised  _ and _ all the Feds will probably be gone. Then we can swim up. I saw it on ‘Mythbusters’.”

 

(Of  _ course _ Dipper was basing his plan on something he saw on “Mythbusters”. Norman couldn’t decide if it was adorable or frustrating.)

 

“We’ll freeze,” Norman deadpanned.

 

“We’ll freeze down here,” the older man replied. 

 

Norman sighed. That was true, he had to admit…

 

“I’ll keep you safe,” Dipper continued. “I  _ will _ . I promise. Don’t worry.”

 

“I’m already worried,” the medium admitted. “But… I trust you. What happens after that?”

 

“Um,” he looked around, clearly trying to come up with a plan, then grabbed the grocery bag they’d been using as a makeshift garbage bag. Norman watched as Dipper pulled plastic out, trying to make a makeshift wrap for his cast so it didn’t get wet. “We… don’t have a lot of money. But if we find a pawn shop that’ll take what little we  _ do _ have, maybe we can get disguises and bus tickets back to San Francisco…”

 

“H-here, let me-” Norman reached over to help Dipper tie garbage over his cast. “Is that what you want to do?”

 

“Unless you have any better ideas?”

 

Norman did not have any better ideas. The water level was slowly, but steadily, rising. If he put his feet back down it’d be up to his ankles.

 

“You should call the girls,” Dipper said, “let them know we’re alright.”

 

“Alright. Where’s the phones?”

 

“In the duffel bag.”

 

Norman looked into the backseat and groaned.

 

“You mean the duffel bag that’s currently sitting in two inches of lake water?”

  
“What?” Dipper whirled around in his seat to look. Then, he sighed loudly. “Shit. Mabel and Pacifica are going to kill us.”


	20. The Big Bang

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Dipper had forbade Mabel from letting anyone know he was alive.

 

“As long as the government thinks we’re dead,” he’d warned her, “they won’t come after you or Pacifica. Bill won’t come after Norman. It buys us time so we can come up with a plan.”

 

Mabel understood that. Of course she understood that, she wasn’t an idiot. But it didn’t make it any easier when her parents - worried about their only living child, as far as they knew - finally called her back. It didn’t make it any easier when she had to talk to the people who had raised them, with Dipper sitting  _ right there _ , listening to her own mother cry and being completely unable to to tell her “no, Dipper’s okay, it’s okay!”

 

“How have you been holding up, sweetie?” her mother asked her, and Mabel felt like the worst daughter ever. She hated lying to her mother. She hated it.

 

“I’ve been… fine,” she was glad her mother was across the bay in Piedmont and couldn’t see the guilt on her face. Couldn’t see Dipper sitting across from her clenching his fists nervously as he listened to their conversation. “You know? I just…”

 

“Miss him?” She could hear the fresh tears in her mother’s voice. Mabel wanted to drive over there right now and wipe those tears away. “I miss him too. I… I remember when you two were such little babies, and your father and I used to dress you in matching outfits. Even before he could talk, he hated that!”

 

Mabel didn’t know how to respond to that. For once in her life, she had no words.

 

“A-and,” Mrs. Pines made a noise that was halfway between a sob and a laugh, “do you remember that time you two shaved your heads at school? Your father was so mad at Dipper for stealing his razor, and I didn’t know what I was going to do with your hair, but you two just thought it was the funniest thing in the world…” she trailed off.

 

Mabel sighed, “oh, Mom…”

 

“I… I’m sorry. I just keep thinking… no mother wants to outlive their baby. I wish I could talk to Sandra about it, but she and Perry won’t answer my calls…”

 

“Th-they probably just need time to themselves too, Mom. I mean… I did. I didn’t want to talk to anyone when I first found out. I didn’t want it to be true…”

 

That much, at least, wasn’t a lie.

 

“Will you and Pacifica be able to make it to the memorial service? I- I understand if you can’t, I know you two must be busy with trying to design a fashion line or whatever your latest project is, but… it would mean a lot to your father if you were there…”

 

This was literal torture. What could Mabel say? She couldn’t turn that down - but she didn’t know if she could fake it at a real memorial service.

 

She looked over to Dipper. Even though she didn’t have the phone on speaker, he had still heard his mother sobbing. He could hear the distress in her voice.

 

Mabel watched her brother bury his head in his one good hand. Both twins knew he’d never ever wanted it to get this far. This whole situation was  _ so _ fucked up.

 

“Mabel?” Her mother’s voice sounded so tiny, almost childlike. Mabel’s chest clenched.

 

“Y-yeah, Mom?”

 

“...I love you. I wish I could tell your brother that, too. I wish I’d said it more. But I can still say it to you. I love you, Mabel, my sweet baby girl…”

 

“I-” her voice broke, “I love you too, Mom.”

 

Pacifica rose from the couch where she was sitting with Norman, walking over and (with silent encouragement from the medium) placing one of her hands on each of the twins’ shoulders, as if to say, ‘I don’t know how to comfort you, and I know I don’t always see eye to eye with Dipper, but I’m so sorry.’

 

Mabel appreciated it. She needed all the comfort she could get as her mother continued to sob into the receiver at her.

 

***

 

Pacifica had  _ never _ been good at offering comfort. Never. Which is why she found it surprising when, in the middle of a “meeting” with the other three (in the living room area of their apartment, over hot chocolate), her cell phone rang with a photo of Courtney Babcock on the screen.

 

Pacifica and Courtney had always gotten along rather well, so the blonde wasn’t as surprised as she could have been, all things considering. But, still, didn’t Courtney have more in common with Mabel right now? They were the ones who had just lost brothers.

 

“It’s your sister,” she told Norman, watching him tense up. Dipper, sitting next to him, wrapped his good arm around Norman when he noticed that.

 

“Are you gonna answer it?” Norman’s voice was hushed, almost nervous sounding. Pacifica didn’t blame him.

 

“Should I?” She asked.

 

The medium bit his lip, exchanged glances with Dipper. Then - before he could change his mind - he nodded.

 

“H-hey, Court,” Pacifica answered the phone right before it went to voicemail.

 

“Pacificaaaa,” predictably, Courtney sounded like a mess.

 

“...I… guess it’d be pretty pointless to ask how you’re holding up…”

 

“My baby brother is  _ dead _ !”

 

“I- I know…” Pacifica had no idea how to respond to that. She looked over at Norman. He looked pale. His lip trembled. Dipper held him a little closer.

 

“I just- I wish I could have saved him, you know? I wish… I wish…”

 

And suddenly, Courtney was bawling loudly into Pacifica’s ear, blubbering so much that the younger girl had no idea what the hell she was even  _ saying _ . It didn’t even matter what she was saying. Not really. Courtney was a wreck without Norman - and Norman knew it, too, judging by the way those big, blue eyes began to swim with guilty tears.

 

“Tell her you’re sorry for her loss,” Mabel whispered, seeing her girlfriend’s trouble with this phone call.

 

“Um… I… I’m sorry, Courtney. I am,” she tried. It sounded so fake. So hollow. What was sorry going to do for the ex-cheerleader?

 

“I know…” the other woman sniffed loudly. 

 

Across the couch from Pacifica, she could hear another sniff. She didn’t have to look up to know both Babcock siblings were in tears. Jesus. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

 

“It’s… going to be okay…” she tried to say to Courtney. “...somehow… I mean… Norman wouldn’t want you to be suffering.”

 

“I know he wouldn’t! He was always so- so  _ considerate _ !”

 

Pacifica bit back a response about all the times Norman had not been very considerate to Courtney. That wasn’t what either of them needed to hear from her right now.

 

“Do… do you think he’s still around?” Courtney’s voice snapped her back to reality.

 

“Huh?” Pacifica blinked. Did Courtney somehow sense something? What could she say to that which wouldn’t blow their cover?

 

“Y-you know… like… like as a ghost?”

 

Oh. Of course that’s what Courtney meant. Pacifica bit her lip.

 

“I mean I… I just don’t want to think my baby brother is gone forever. I want to at least  _ pretend _ there’s a chance I can see him again, somehow! My parents wouldn’t understand - neither would my fiancée - but you four… I mean, you and Mabel have seen things. R-right? I just want to see him again, even just once, just to tell him…” Courtney cut herself off with a sigh. “I’m sorry. That sounds pretty stupid, doesn’t it?”

 

Another sniffle from Norman, and Pacifica clenched a fist over her knee. Mabel reached out to take that fist, and the blonde appreciated what her girlfriend was trying to do and all, but  _ god _ did it suck to hear Courtney so torn up about this when Norman was  _ right fucking there _ . And what could she even do about it? Say meaningless “I’m sorry”s and “it’ll be okay”s when she’d been feeling exactly the same only a couple days ago? Her own eyes stung with tears of sympathy as she responded:

 

“...no, Courtney, it’s not… It’s not stupid. I get it, okay? I do. I’m sure he…” she looked over at Norman again. Tears were streaming steadily down his face. “...he knows you loved him to the end.”

 

“I did,” Courtney responded. “I loved him. I still love him. I don’t think- I didn’t say that enough. I hope he knew,” her voice cracked on the last word, and Pacifica watched Norman throw a hand up to his mouth and nod as he suppressed sobs, he couldn’t let Courtney hear him. Dipper held onto Norman a little tighter with that one good arm, as if holding his boyfriend together.

 

Pacifica just said, in a hushed tone, “He knew, Courtney.”

 

“I- I have to go,” Courtney sniffled into the phone. “My parents kinda need me right now.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“...thanks, Pacifica. Really.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Pacifica hung up with a sigh. She didn’t understand why Courtney was thanking her. Then, she looked back at Dipper and Norman. “...are… you okay?”

 

Norman wiped at his face, before responding, “this has gone too far. I never wanted my family to get hurt.”

 

“Oh, Normy,” Mabel breathed, “none of us wanted that. Of course no one wanted that.”

 

“We have to stop Bill,” Norman continued. “We have to end this.”

 

Dipper nodded, “you got it, Norm. We’re all thinking that. Right? We’re all thinking that?”

 

“I was thinking that,” Mabel said, and Pacifica, though still shaken, nodded her agreement.

 

“We’ll come up with a plan,” Dipper told him, squeezing around his shoulders affectionately. “I’m not going to let him hurt you again.”

 

“No,” Norman frowned, looking at the cast on Dipper’s left arm, “not this time, Dipper.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said no. You’re not going to push me out of the way this time,” the younger man was determined, a new fire behind those blue eyes.

 

“What are you talking about?” Dipper frowned. “Of course I’m gonna-”

 

“Dipper, he’s tried to kill us. He’s forced us to hurt the people we love. I can’t take it anymore! I don’t want to sit here and plan - I want to  _ stop _ him!”

 

It was such a shock coming from Norman Babcock of all people, that none of the other three knew how to respond at first. Something about Courtney’s grief had flipped a switch inside of him, and now he looked almost  _ angry _ .

 

“Wh-what are you saying?” Dipper broke the silence.

 

“I’m saying I’m done,” the medium responded. “I’m done being hurt. And I’m done letting my loved ones get hurt. I’m done letting  _ you _ get hurt, Dipper. I’m done being used. I’m done being Bill’s  _ plaything _ ! I- I don’t like hurting people. But Bill  _ isn’t _ a person. There’s no way to help him, so… I’ve got to protect my family from what he wants to do to our galaxy. From what he did to those aliens’ home. Even if it means… facing a part of me that I’m terrified of. I’m done being scared.”

 

“Sc-scared of what?” Dipper didn’t seem to like what he was hearing.

 

“Of my  _ power _ , Dipper!” Norman was insistent, now, more than any of the other three had ever imagined he could be. “This is what I have that can defeat Bill, and I’m gonna use it! If it’s powerful enough to destroy the planet, then it’s powerful enough to protect it, too, isn’t it? I mean what the hell is your plan, here? To go on the run again, to get new identities, to live the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders? No. No, not this time.”

 

The older man looked upset. Scared, even. “Norman, if you think for one second that I’m gonna put you in danger-”

 

“It’s not  _ about _ me, Dipper! This is the world we’re talking about! Look, if I’m strong enough that he can use me as a battery, then I’m strong enough to defeat him. I must be, right?”

 

The older man gaped in shock, wordless, like a fish.

 

Pacifica, though. She smiled. She had missed this side of Norman. 

 

“That makes sense to me,” she answered, and the medium nodded to her, appreciating the support.

 

“I think… no. I  _ know _ I can do this,” Norman said.

 

“Wait, I’m sorry, your plan is to  _ confront Bill Cipher _ ?!” Dipper screeched, throwing his good hand into the air in distress. “Did- did you leave your common sense back in New York? What are you  _ thinking _ ?!”

 

“I’m thinking that this is a part of me I’ve been afraid of since I was eleven, but it doesn’t seem like anything else can save the world or stop him, so… I’ve got to do it. I’ve got to fight him. For you and for everybody. And I’m not going to let you protect me from that.”

 

Pacifica felt a swell of pride in her heart.

 

“So. We’ve finally got a plan,” she spoke up. 

 

“It  _ does _ make sense,” Mabel agreed.

 

“I… No!” Dipper jumped up from the couch. “No it  _ doesn’t _ !”

 

“Dipper-” Norman tried, but the older man wasn’t having it.

 

“You can’t. You can’t! Norman, you could die! You could physically  _ die _ ! Don’t you understand that?” Dipper was almost hysterical.

 

“Dip,” Mabel tried to placate her twin, “Norman isn’t going to die.”

 

“I might die,” Norman answered.

 

“ _ Norman _ ,” Pacifica hissed, “not helping!”

 

“No, he’s right. I might die. But… at least if I do, then I go down knowing I tried. Dipper, you always tried to get me to talk about my anger, about my lightning powers - well, this is me talking about it. This is me knowing I can use it to protect you. To save the  _ world _ . If it’s a choice between dying protecting you and dying running from Bill - then I’m going to protect you, Dipper…”

 

“No,” Dipper shook his head, his face colouring up.

 

“Dipper, listen to me-”

 

“ _ No! _ ”

 

The older man turned and ran, running into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. The other three could hear it locking before any of them could even react.

 

Pacifica turned to Norman. The medium looked crushed that his boyfriend wasn’t supporting him. But he clearly wasn’t going to change his mind, either. She respected that.

 

“Ignore him,” she instructed. Norman turned to her as she spoke. “He’ll come around. For what it’s worth,  _ I _ think you’re making the right choice.”

 

“Th-thanks, Pacifica,” he sighed. “You’re not scared I’m going to die?”

 

“I don’t want you to die,” she answered. “Which is why you’re not going to. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right.”

 

“‘We’?” Norman arched an eyebrow.

 

“Mabel, get my laptop. Look up abandoned buildings in this city on one of those urban exploration forums or whatever,” she turned back to Norman with a smirk. “Norman, if you’re serious about this, then we’re gonna train. If there’s one  _ good _ thing I got out of my life? It’s that I know practise makes perfect.”

 

“What, are you my personal trainer now?”

 

“If that’s what it takes to defeat Bill? Hell yes, I am,” she nodded.

 

“But what about Dipper?”

 

Pacifica frowned. What about him? If Dipper wasn’t going to support Norman when the medium needed him most, then she didn’t know  _ what _ to say to him.

 

“ _ I’ll _ talk to him,” Mabel responded. “Don’t you two worry. If anyone can convince Dipper, then I can.”

 

The blonde smiled at Norman. And Norman - for the first time since she’d airlifted him out of Nevada - smiled back.

 

At least they had a plan.

  
  
  
  



	21. Supernova

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Dipper was curled into a ball on the floor of his sister’s bathroom, biting back panic even as his heart pounded wildly and tried to leap up out of his body. 

 

How could anyone think this was a good idea?! Bill would stop at  _ nothing _ to destroy Norman - and Norman wanted to just, what, walk right towards him? They couldn’t defeat Bill, not like this. All that would happen would be that Bill would get his hands on that power he wanted so much, and Norman would probably die.

 

And Dipper didn’t think he was strong enough to stop the end of the world without Norman.

 

This couldn’t be happening. He clenched his eyes shut. This  _ wasn’t _ happening! It had to be a bad dream! Maybe if he willed it hard enough, it would be. He’d open his eyes and be back in Queens, getting ready for another day at that horrible waiter job in Brooklyn. God, he would give anything for things to be that normal again, for this to not be happening.

 

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

 

“Go away!” He insisted.

 

It was no use. The door opened anyway, even though he’d locked it.

 

Mabel placed the key on the bathroom counter, closed the door behind her, and sat on the tiled floor right next to her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed he was shaking until he felt how calm Mabel’s hand seemed in contrast.

 

“Dipper-” she began, but he cut her off:

 

“Mabel, how can you  _ condone _ this?!”

 

“Condone what?” She replied, “How can I condone Norman finally standing up for himself? How can I condone him figuring out something which might just work? Dip… You know Norman. You know he knows what’s right for himself.”

 

Dipper shot up, eyes blazing. 

 

“That’s the  _ thing _ , Mabel! No he doesn’t! This is- this is  _ suicide _ ! I won’t let him-”

 

“He’s an adult, you know,” she kept her voice gentle. “He can make his own decisions. And I don’t think this is the wrong one to make. It- it could really work!”

 

“Or it could get him killed and put his powers right into Bill’s hands!”

 

“Do you really trust him that little?”

 

That, over all other things Mabel could have said, stung badly. Dipper didn’t know how to respond. Of  _ course _ he trusted Norman!

 

“Dipper,” she continued, “it’s his decision to make. You need to trust that he thinks this is right. What he needs most right now is your support.”

 

“N-no,” he shook his head. He couldn’t support this. “What he needs is for me to  _ protect _ him!”

 

“Dip-”

 

“Leave me alone, Mabel,” he curled back into his ball. He had to think of a way to convince Norman not to do this.

 

“You don’t really want me to leave you alone-”

 

“Yes I do! Get out of here!”

 

Mabel blinked a couple of times. Then, she sighed heavily. She hadn’t really been herself, not since Dipper had gotten back from Wyoming, and it hadn’t escaped his notice. This was exactly why he couldn’t let Norman do this! Mabel was still upset over the last time she thought they’d died - if Norman died for real, it might destroy her!

 

“When you change your mind,” she said, snapping him out of that train of thought, “I’m always willing to talk to you.”

 

Then, clearly not knowing what to say to him, she left him there on the bathroom floor, to wither in denial and anger at this whole stupid situation.

 

***

 

_ EAST OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA _

 

Pacifica had wanted an empty, abandoned building for him to train in, and Norman had known just the one. He agreed with her that it was best, it was less likely to cause any damage or hurt anyone if they were in a building no one cared about anyway. 

 

And he remembered that years ago - during this same time of year, even - he and Dipper had been trapped in exactly such a building. That seemed so long ago now. Jealousy over one of Dipper’s ex-girlfriends seemed so quaint a problem when compared to having to face his biggest fear.

 

But he wasn’t backing down. He wasn’t going to let himself be afraid anymore, even if the idea of utilising this power secretly scared him way more than he was letting on.

 

And god, he wished Dipper were here.

 

“So,” Pacifica stepped gingerly over some of the debris and rat droppings on the floor, her nose curling up in disgust, “how does this work, anyway? I’ve only ever seen you do it when possessed.”

 

The way she said it was so matter-of-fact. Norman appreciated Pacifica’s ability to act level-headed in a crisis, even if he could still see the fear behind her blue-green eyes.

 

“I… I have to get mad,” he confessed, feeling a little bit in over his head. “I have to get  _ really _ mad.”

 

“Alright,” she nodded as if this made perfect sense. “What makes you really mad?”

 

Norman’s first urge was to not even consider the question. To push it down, to not think about it. He was Norman Babcock. He didn’t  _ get _ mad. The thought was so instinctual that he didn’t even question it for a few seconds.

 

But then he saw how Pacifica was watching him. So expectantly, like she had all the faith in the world that he could save her.

 

He had to do this. For her. For Mabel. For Dipper, too, even if Dipper didn’t realise it yet.

 

He sighed and thought about the last time he’d let himself get angry.

 

He’d been so afraid when he’d thought Dipper was dead. So afraid and so  _ angry _ . Angry at himself for letting Agent Collins strap him down, and angry at Bill Cipher for causing all of this. For causing Dipper to think it was a good idea to shove his entire arm into some terrible  _ machine _ ! That damn machine… that damn  _ Bill _ … and after he’d tried everything he could just to keep Dipper safe, to keep Dipper happy, something like that still happened! He couldn’t do  _ anything _ right, could he?!

 

Damn Bill Cipher. And damn him, too.

 

Norman could feel himself beginning to ignite, he could feel the anger and lightning coursing in his veins, and against all better judgement, he allowed himself to give in - he allowed the green to overtake his vision until he no longer felt human.

 

He was so unbelievably  _ mad _ !  _ Bill _ had done this to them, and Norman wanted to make him pay for it! How  _ dare _ he!?

 

He screamed.

 

“That fucking triangle  _ fuck _ ! How dare he do this to us?!”

 

“Norman!” He could hear Pacifica’s tiny voice cutting through the loud crackles of electricity in his ear. She sounded… vulnerable. “That’s good! Now  _ control _ it! Try to hit that window over there-!”

 

“Shut  _ up _ !” He snapped, whirling around, causing long arcs of white-green lightning to jump off his form, hitting the walls around him and leaving long, jagged scorch marks. “Don’t tell me what to do - he doesn’t own me! And you don’t either!”

 

“I-” She stammered, flabbergasted. “I wasn’t trying to- Norman, calm down a little, okay? Let’s just-”

 

“I don’t want to be calm!” Norman screeched, causing more explosions of lightning. “I’m  _ tired _ of being calm! Calm nearly got Dipper fucking  _ killed _ , and it would have been my fault! I’m going to make this entire world pay for making me almost kill the most important fucking person-”

 

He watched as one of the sparks flew directly at Pacifica’s face. She gasped and ducked down just in time, but the tips of her beautiful blonde bob - the haircut she’d been so proud of - were singed. And she didn’t look level-headed anymore. She looked afraid.

 

She looked afraid of Norman.

 

Oh, god, what the fuck was he doing?! Pacifica was one of his best friends - he couldn’t hurt her!

 

With a shaky gasp he dropped to his knees, forcing the lightning back into his body. It hurt, it felt like fire burning just under his skin.

 

“I- I’m sorry-” he shook his head, not looking up to face her. He couldn’t look at her after that. “I never meant t- I’m so sorry, Pacifica. I didn’t mean it.”

 

God, what had he just done? What if she was  _ hurt _ ? What if he’d driven her away for good?!

 

A tiny hand found his, and he looked up against his better judgement. Pacifica had crawled across the dirty floor in her designer pants just to grab his hand. And she didn’t look scared. She looked determined, even if the ends of one side of her hair were still smoking slightly.

 

“We’ll try again,” she said, with all the conviction of a military commander.

 

“M-maybe this was a mistake-”

 

“It’s not a mistake,” she shook her head. “It’s like any other skill. You just need to practise.”

 

“I almost hurt you-”

 

“I gave my golf trainer a concussion on my first day of training,” Pacifica replied. “I swung too hard. My club slipped out of my hands and smacked him right on the temple. But I knew I couldn’t quit. For one thing, my stupid parents would never let me. But even besides that… I wouldn’t let myself. I’m not a quitter. And neither are you.”

 

She sounded so sure of him.

 

“But… your hair…”

 

“Like I can’t afford to fix it - I needed to trim some split ends anyway,” she waved her hand flippantly. “Norman, listen to me - you can do this. You’re  _ not _ a quitter. Are you?”

 

The medium sighed, remembering how once, long ago, his sister had said something so similar, something about “cheering the uncheerable” - about not giving up even when things looked so hopeless. And now, after Courtney’s plea to be able to tell him she loved him… he couldn’t let Courtney down. He couldn’t quit.

 

He shook his head. He wasn’t a quitter.

 

He had to try again.

 

***

 

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

It was after dark when Norman got home, looking way too exhausted. Dipper hated seeing him so exhausted. Didn’t Norman realise this wasn’t good for him?!

 

But he didn’t want to fight with Norman. He really didn’t want to fight with Norman. He wanted to hold him close and keep him safe and never fight again. He wanted to fight Bill so Norman wouldn’t have to. He wanted…

 

...well, Dipper wasn’t sure  _ what _ it was that he wanted. Only that it was anything but this.

 

“Mabel and I made spaghetti,” he tried to start a conversation with the medium, who had just collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion.

 

“Not hungry,” Norman mumbled into the pillow. “Pacifica an’ I got something on th’ way home…”

 

Dipper frowned. Pacifica was so eager to help “train” Norman for a confrontation that would likely mean his death. He bit his tongue.

 

“Then… maybe we can watch a movie? I’m sure Mabel would let us use her laptop, I’ll put tape over the webcam so the government can’t use it to spy on us or whatever-”

 

“Dipper,” Norman reluctantly pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I know what you’re doing.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” the older man lied with an indignant huff, even though he knew his face would give him away.

 

“You’re scared. I understand that. But-”

 

“I don’t think you  _ do _ understand,” Dipper blurted out. “You don’t have to do this, Norman!”

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

“No you don’t! We can run away, you and me!”

 

“We already did that,” Norman kept his voice low and calm. Dipper didn’t know if it was just because he was tired or if he was trying to calm him down. It was probably a mixture of both.

 

“Then we can run farther! We can go to- to Canada! Take on those French names Pacifica gave us, get an apartment in Toronto-”

 

“ _ No _ , Dipper. We both know that won’t work.” The medium sighed, his eyes drooping just a bit. “You always said you thought I was a hero. So let me be a hero. Let me save all the people Bill wants to hurt.”

 

“I don’t  _ care _ about those people! They all probably want us dead! I care about  _ you _ , Norman!”

 

“Shhh,” Norman reached out, wrapped his arms around Dipper, pulled him down to lay on the bed next to him. “Dip. I’m tired. Let’s just rest for now, okay?”

 

Dipper bit back any reply he could have made. He waited until Norman was asleep to cry tears of frustration over this stupid situation.

 

***

 

_ EAST OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA _

 

“Alright,” Pacifica was saying. It was the next morning, and after a quick Starbucks run (Pacifica was slightly addicted), they were back at the warehouse for yet another day of ‘training’, as she called it.

 

Norman wasn’t so sure ‘training’ was the right word for it anymore. Yesterday had been exhausting. He was beginning to doubt that this power even could be controlled. But she believed so hard in him… he couldn’t let her down.

 

“Alright,” she was saying as she gathered her bob up into a hair clip, “whatever happened yesterday clearly didn’t work. But you do need to get mad. Just maybe not… that mad.”

 

“I’m not very good at getting mad,” he deadpanned. 

 

“Duh, that’s why we’re practising!” Pacifica wasn’t perturbed. “What did you think about yesterday that made you go all lightning bomb on me?”

 

“D-don’t say it like that,” Norman shifted uncomfortably. He had never wanted to hurt Pacifica, let alone ‘go lightning bomb’ on her.

 

She sighed. Then, she placed a hand up on one of his shoulders, as if to show she wasn’t afraid of him. Norman looked her in the eyes, and was surprised to find that… no. She  _ wasn’t _ afraid. Not at all. There was no fear behind those teal eyes, just determination.

 

“Norman,” she said, “you  _ can _ do this. What did you think about yesterday? You can tell me. I’m not gonna judge you or whatever. It’s not like I haven’t gotten super pissed off over something before.”

 

“I… I was thinking about Nevada, and when I thought Dipper had died,” he confessed honestly, biting his lip. “It… it made me so  _ angry … _ ”

 

Pacifica nodded, but pulled her hand back. That didn’t escape Norman’s notice.

 

“Maybe… don’t think about anything involving Dipper. That’s a little too close to home right now. What else makes you mad?”

 

“I dunno, Pacifica-”

 

“Have you ever been mad at me?” She placed her hands on her hips, steadfastly  _ refusing _ to give up on him.

 

He shook his head.

 

“What about Mabel?”

 

Another shake of the head. Norman couldn’t think of anything the girls had ever done that had warranted that kind of rage. Sure, he didn’t necessarily always agree with them, but he couldn’t think of any time they’d made him mad.

 

“Alright… your family then?”

 

His family? Norman looked away, his eyebrows knitting together. Of course he’d been angry at his family before. All the times when he was younger, and his dad had yelled at him to try and be more normal, to quit “pretending” he could see ghosts… But that had been before the Aggie incident. Norman had forgiven his father for all of that. Perry hadn’t known about his abilities.

 

...of course, even after he’d accepted the possibility that his son was telling the truth, it wasn’t as if Perry had suddenly become unconditionally supportive.

 

And now that he was thinking about it, that had hurt a lot more than Norman wanted to admit.

 

He remembered after he’d graduated from Kaufman, his parents had thrown a graduation party in Blithe Hollow for him and Dipper. He remembered he had been so excited at dinner to tell them about his internship in Manhattan - it’d been an extremely competitive application process to even get considered for it. He remembered Dipper squeezing his hand under the table encouragingly.

 

And what had his father said?

 

“What the hell are you two thinking, moving to Manhattan in this economy?!” Perry had blown up at him. “You’re not ready to go off on your own like that! This is a mistake!”

 

A  _ mistake _ . Just like every other time Norman had tried to make a decision without consulting Perry first. As if he were  _ incapable _ of making his own decisions.

 

When Dipper had wanted to go to Montauk, Perry had made his disapproval clear. When Norman had told his dad not to call his friend in Brooklyn, Perry had gone behind his back anyway.

 

And he knew, logically, his father wanted what was best for him. But it  _ hurt _ that Perry still didn’t trust Norman, after everything, to know what was best for himself.

 

Feeling the hurt and anger, he looked down at his hands expectantly, waiting for the sparks to encircle his fingers.

 

“...Norman?” Pacifica asked gently. 

 

He ignored her, tried to give in to the emotions he felt over the fact that it just didn’t feel like Perry trusted him. It had  _ never _ felt like his father trusted him!

 

But instead of sparks escaping his body, the only thing that came out were a shaky gasp and a single, lonely tear down one cheek.

 

“Norman?!” Now, the blonde sounded alarmed. 

 

He shook his head. He wasn’t mad. He was too sad to be mad.

 

Pacifica sighed. Then, she said, “We’ll try something else, okay?” 

 

***

 

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Pacifica and Norman came back to the apartment for lunch, even though Dipper knew for a fact they’d planned to eat lunch across the bay in Oakland. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to risk running into the Pines’ parents, even though he figured his parents probably hadn’t left the house since the news of his “death”. Or maybe Norman was just done for the day. The medium looked so tired. 

 

Dipper hated seeing him like that. He hated it. He wanted to take this all away from Norman, more than anything.

 

Still, he couldn’t quite manage to keep the displeasure completely out of his voice as he slid onto the couch near Norman and asked:

 

“So how was your  _ training _ ?”

 

“Dipper-” Mabel began, but was cut off by Norman:

 

“It was fine.”

 

The medium didn’t sound mad at Dipper, or even scared or sad. He just sounded  _ tired _ .

 

“Seems to be taking a lot out of you,” Dipper continued, trying to sound nonchalant. It didn’t work. He sounded accusing, he sounded terrified, he sounded anything  _ but _ nonchalant. 

 

“He already said he’s doing  _ fine _ ,” Pacifica snapped from somewhere behind them. “No thanks to you.”

 

That stung. Dipper tried to shake it off - it wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to Pacifica snapping at him whenever he and Norman were at odds after all - but the look in Norman’s eyes when she said it gave him pause.

 

It was subtle, but it was there. Could it be possible Norman  _ agreed _ with Pacifica?

 

“Norman…” he spoke again, quieter, trying not to attract the attention of Pacifica or Mabel. “Norman, I just don’t like seeing you so exhausted all the time. This isn’t good for you…”

 

“...it’s not very good for me to sit around and do nothing while I wait for Bill to come kill us all,” Norman replied, in that same quiet, exhausted voice. “You were the one that said if we go down, we’d go down fighting. This is me fighting, Dipper.”

 

And there it was, out in the open. Norman planned to… to what, go down fighting?

 

Dipper’s chest clenched up, the way it always did when he was about to panic. He tried to bite it back - he couldn’t break down, not here, not now - but he couldn’t stop his hands from sweating and trembling as they reached out to find Norman’s, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go.

 

“Dipper?” Norman looked at him, those heavy eyebrows Dipper loved so much knitting together with concern. God, Dipper didn’t want to think that he might never get to see them again. 

 

And suddenly, the younger man was leaning in to kiss his cheeks. Dipper didn’t even understand why until he heard himself breathe shakily and saw Norman pull back, lips shimmering wet. 

 

He was crying.

 

He felt so weak and stupid, but it wouldn’t stop. He clung to Norman’s hands tighter.

 

“I- I don’t want you to go down at  _ all _ !”

 

“I know you don’t, Dipper,” Norman sighed, biting his lip. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry…”

 

“I just want you to be safe,” he continued, feeling his lip trembling - why was he so  _ pathetic _ ?! “I just want to protect you.”

 

“I’m sorry…” Norman repeated.

 

But sorry didn’t stop Dipper from breaking into fresh tears and collapsing forward into Norman’s chest, breathing in his cinnamon-and-autumn scent as he sobbed. Sorry didn’t save his life.

 

***

 

_ EAST OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA _

 

After finishing his lunch, calming Dipper down, and a (thankfully dreamless) nap, Norman found himself back in that warehouse with a now-even-more-determined Pacifica. 

 

God, he was getting tired of this training. And he was beginning to have more than a few doubts, after seeing Dipper break down at lunch like that. He wasn’t even sure this power  _ could _ be controlled, and he’d never wanted to hurt Dipper!

 

Still, the blonde was staring at him so expectantly. And he couldn’t stop thinking about her phone call with his sister. Besides, it wasn’t as if they had any other ideas.

 

So he tried again.

 

This time, the memory came easy to him.

 

He remembered running for three days safe to try and get away. He remembered Bill Cipher taunting him in that voice, that awful voice. ( _ "G͈̣̣o̹̜ ̟̥̮̗̲̺́a̠̲̝h̬͚̰̥e̹à̹͙̘̜̘d̗̦͓̻͖̘͔ ̼a̠̤̦̻͘n̸͈̻͔̞̖ͅd͖̝̯͓̩̟ ̶̼r͏͍̥̮̬ͅu̳̭͚̰̣̬n͍͖̘̤̼͓͓,̠̤̮ ͏̺̻͙L͉̼i͚̠͙͓t̵͔͓̦t͕̹̹̳͟l̛̮̮e҉͕̜̲̤ ̛̠̣Gh̠̤̰̗͝o͕͚̝̖ͅst̀.͕̭̠͎̲̝ ̺͎̱I̖͇̦͇͞t̴̹̹̳̳ ͉̰̫͚̺͘ͅd̴oe̗͚͖͎̖͙s̜̗̠̫̖͙n'̗̦t̴̙̣ ͙̻̦̥̥m͙̪̩ạṭ̰̟̩t̢̼̜͔̮̩̰͇ḙ̻̬̥̭̹̭r̡͖̠̫̼̣ ̛͉͖̥̘i̟f̺ ͎̱y̴̱̟͍o̪̪̤̹̠̳u͏ ͔̤̜̞̥̬͔d̖͉̝̱̪̥̻o̰͎̜̞.̯"̡̪̫͍͚ _ )

 

He remembered losing control of his body.

 

Bill had been able to access this power of his so easily. And didn’t that make him  _ angry _ ? Didn’t it just piss him right off that while he was still, at twenty-two years old, terrified of that side of himself, Bill had been able to access this power seven years ago and use it to…

 

...to hurt Dipper. And Mabel. And Pacifica. To try and kill his friends, as if they were just paper dolls that could be disposed of.

 

Bill had tried to kill his friends. His chosen family.

 

He’d played with them like they were cheap toys instead of living, breathing people!

 

Didn’t that make him angry? Norman could feel the electricity beginning to sizzle in his blood and crackle right under his thin skin.

 

Of  _ course _ it made him angry! Of course Bill made him angry, the way he toyed with people and then tried to kill them when they’d outlived their usefulness to his stupid plan!

 

“Good! Hold on to that thought and try to throw some of that lightning at that black spot on the wall!” Pacifica’s voice sounded so far away behind the popping of lightning in his ears. 

 

But Norman was full of righteous anger now. He could do this. He could get Bill back, make him pay for hurting his friends the same way-

 

...the same way Norman had almost hurt Pacifica. The same way he’d hurt Dipper.

 

Suddenly, the electric feeling disappeared, pushed down by fear, and he fell to his knees, clutching at his hair.

 

“I- I  _ can’t _ !” He exclaimed. “I can’t do it, Pacifica, I can’t-”

 

“Yes you  _ can _ ,” she was at his side immediately, trying to pull him up again, though with her small size she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

 

But Norman just kept shaking his head, fingers curled around bits of his own hair as he repeated weakly, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…”

 

***

 

_ SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA _

 

Dipper had barely spoken a word for the rest of that day, or that night when Norman came home and promptly passed out, or even the next morning. What could he possibly say that he hadn’t already said in an attempt to get Norman not to do this?

 

After all, Norman only ever got this stubborn when something meant a lot to him, didn’t he? Only when something was extremely important to him, like when he’d moved to New York after college instead of back to Massachusetts.

 

Dipper had always respected that about his boyfriend, hadn’t he?

 

Was this really so important to Norman? Dipper was scared - he was fucking terrified - but was he being disrespectful?

 

“Mabel, can I ask you something?” He blurted out the question before he could think about it and talk himself out of asking.

 

“Uh. Yeah,” his twin clearly hadn’t been expecting that, but she offered him a small smile anyway as she sat next to him on the couch, patting his shoulder. “Sure thing, little bro! What is it?”

 

Dipper frowned a little at the ‘little bro’ remark, but pushed forward anyway:

 

“Do you think I’ve been… disrespectful?”

 

She blinked a couple times, before responding with, “What do you mean ‘disrespectful’?”

 

He sighed, balling his good hand into a nervous, sweaty fist over one knee.

 

“You... You know that I really really  _ really _ don’t want Norman to do this. But- but I was never trying to be disrespectful about it! Do you think I am?”

 

Mabel looked away for a second.

 

“Do you want me to be completely honest, Dip?”

 

That couldn’t be good - she wouldn’t ask that if she didn’t think he was being a dick. His breath hitched as he tried to come up with a way to defend himself.

 

“It’s- it’s not like I’m  _ trying _ to! Mabel, you gotta understand, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to him,” he babbled incessantly. “I’ve always prided myself on being able to protect him, and this is- this is  _ huge _ , Mabel. I can’t protect him from this, I can’t just let him go if there’s the smallest chance he might die, I can’t let him die, I have to protect him, I have to-”

 

“Woah, woah, Dipper,  _ hey _ ,” she squeezed his shoulder. “I get it, okay? I don’t think you’re trying to be disrespectful.”

 

“You… don’t?” He was cautious, taking shallow little breaths in an attempt to get his pulse down.

 

“Of course I don’t,” she hooked a finger under her brother’s goatee and guided his face up to look at her. “Dipper, you’re  _ scared _ . I don’t blame you. I’m scared, too.”

 

He nodded weakly, and watched his sister’s expression soften in a way it hadn’t done for days.

 

“But… I think Norman is pretty scared too,” she continued. “I think if you want to help him, the best thing you can do for him is to be there for him. Not as his protector - but as his boyfriend who loves him.”

 

Dipper sighed. He almost didn’t want to admit it, but…

 

...Mabel was right. Norman needed him right now. And if Norman was scared, of course Dipper should have been there for him, all along.

 

“I’ve been a tool, haven’t I?” he asked, sheepishly.

 

For the first time in a long while, Mabel giggled, some of the roses returning to her cheeks.

 

“Come on, Dippin’ Dots. We’ve got a medium to support!”

 

***

 

_ EAST OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA _

 

Norman was trying again with the Bill memory, trying again to push down his fear and allow the little green sparks of lightning gathering under his fingernails and in his hair to completely take over his body.

 

“Stop holding back,” Pacifica commanded from a safe distance. “Norman, you can’t let whatever you’re angry about control you - you need to control it! Now take back that control!”

 

“I  _ can’t _ ,” he clenched his eyes shut for a second, closing his fists around bright, hot green sparks. 

 

“Yes you  _ can _ !” 

 

“No, Pacifica, I- I don’t know if I can,” he was torn. On one hand, Bill was going to kill everyone, and he couldn’t let that happen, but on the other hand...

 

“What’s there to know?” The blonde placed a hand on her hip. “You can’t be afraid.  _ Own _ your anger.”

 

Frustrated, he snapped, “I don’t even know what that means!” 

 

This, of course, caused a small bolt of lightning to arc out of his form, though it only got a few inches. This was  _ pointless _ ! 

 

“Just like that,” she continued. “Now try to get it farther!”

 

“Don’t you understand that I can’t?!” Now, Norman was yelling, more of his body beginning to give in and turn electric, though he was still trying to hold back as much of it as possible.

 

“Yes,” another voice interrupted them, “Norman, yes you  _ can _ .”

 

In shock, Norman’s vision went bright blue for a second as he whirled around, sending another arc of lightning a few inches away from his body before the electric jolts faded entirely away.

 

“D-Dipper?” He gasped out. “Mabel? What are you two  _ doing _ here?”

 

“Helping you train, obviously,” the older man broke into a weak smile. He was still clearly uneasy about this. But he was  _ here _ now. It meant the world to Norman, and the medium, too, was smiling as Dipper walked over to him, pulling him into an embrace.

 

“You’re- you’re really here,” Norman breathed into the hug.

 

“Of  _ course _ we’re here!” Mabel exclaimed with a big grin, a bigger one than the medium had seen on her in a while. “We’re gonna teach you how to use your lightning powers and you’re gonna be a real life superhero!”

 

“Um,” Norman began, but was cut off by more of Mabel’s silliness:

 

“Super Lightning Normy and Detective Lamby Lamby saving the world from the sinister Bill Cipher!”

 

“Lamby what now?” Pacifica arched an eyebrow, and Dipper was  _ bright _ red.

 

“But! Not without help from Mabel the grappler and Pacifica the  _ Perrific _ ! Get it? It’s like terrific but with more Paz-az! And that’s like pizzazz but with more  _ Paz _ !”

 

In a deadpan tone, Pacifica replied, “I cannot believe you’re the woman I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with.”

 

With a wide grin and sparkling wide eyes, Mabel grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and trotted over to the boys.

 

“We’re gonna save the world, you know,” she smiled up at Norman.

 

“Hold up, Mabel,” Dipper stopped her, then turned back to his boyfriend. “It was… blue that time.”

 

“What?” Norman didn’t understand.

 

“Your lightning. When I came in, it turned more blue, like Pacifica’s eyes.”

 

The blonde in question blinked as she realised, “he’s right. It was always green before.”

 

The medium thought about it. What could have been different this time? He’d gotten mad just like the other times, hadn’t he? 

 

But this time, Dipper had come in. Dipper had supported him. And he hadn’t been afraid, not with Dipper there.

 

Maybe that was the key to controlling it.

 

“I’m going to try again,” he said.

 

“Yahoo!” Mabel cheered him on. “Super Lightning Normy to the rescue!”

 

“Not sold on that name,” Dipper deadpanned. 

 

Norman laughed before walking a few feet away to try and make his lightning blue again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this were a movie, this would be where the epic training montage began.


	22. Arcturus

_ IN AN AIRPLANE, SOMEWHERE OVER THE MIDWEST _

 

When a star dies and goes into supernova, one of two things happens. First, it can collapse under its own mass and become a black hole, sucking in all the light and matter in the immediate vicinity so that nothing can possibly penetrate the unimaginable darkness. Or, the supernova can gather itself and become a new star, or a set of stars, as part of a massive cosmic rebirth.

 

Likewise, a week later when the quartet boarded a plane towards Washington, D.C., Norman couldn’t help but reflect on his own fear of collapsing in upon his own internal darkness. After all, once they got there, it wouldn’t be like in the warehouse in Oakland. He wouldn’t get the chance to pull the power back and start over. It was all or nothing.

 

Dipper had told him once - Dipper, who had always loved to look up at the stars - that the constellation Cassiopeia had a star that was born from a supernova. Cassiopeia, the woman bound up to be tortured. Norman could almost relate. In a way, he almost felt like he’d been tying himself up and torturing himself. He’d seen Aggie lose control all those years ago. He knew what happened to her.

 

Having a big showdown in the nation’s capitol… it was scary. Norman didn’t know if he could find the strength to shine bright under those circumstances. 

 

But was the fear itself what was holding him back? Back in California, when Dipper had helped him not be so afraid, he’d been able to - though only with intense concentration - make the lightning go teal blue, and for the most part do what he wanted with it. He had been so busy looking at the big picture - the tortured girl Cassiopeia, the pain - that he hadn’t been able to see the light in his individual power, his ability to light up like a star.

 

Dipper had called him, on more than one occasion, his star after all. The irony did not escape Norman.

 

God, he was tired. The other three were asleep, but he’d always had trouble on red-eye flights, forever associating them with nightmares after that one fateful year. Even if the seats  _ were _ far more comfortable than he was used to (Pacifica refused to fly coach), he still wasn’t quite sure he could even  _ get _ to sleep. His thoughts were racing far too much.

 

He looked over at the face next to him (Dipper had the window seat). For how much the older man frustrated him sometimes, Norman really did love that face - the gentle upward slope of that nose, the patch of hair on that chin, that slightly pouty lower lip, the babyish roundness of those cheeks that had never quite gone away, the fact that Dipper had surprisingly long eyelashes - and it looked so calm when he was sleeping. Like for once, the older man wasn’t worried or scared.

 

Norman knew that wasn’t true, of course. Dipper was as terrified as he was. They all were. But seeing him like this, Norman could almost pretend as if he weren’t.

 

He curled into Dipper’s side and whispered right by his ear, though he knew there was no way the other would hear it, “You don’t need to worry, Dip.  _ I’m _ going to protect  _ you _ this time.”

 

And by god, he really hoped that he could.

 

***

 

_???????? _

 

Norman recognised the nightmare forest immediately. It was just as charred and destroyed as the last time, and he could feel his pulse beginning to race, could hear the whispering in the blackened trees, all around him:

 

“K͏n̴e̫̠̗̙͘w̟͈͇͚͟ ̵̺̥̟̹̜͚ͅy̵͉̳ͅò̭̺͇u̝̜ ̯͘w̶̹͙̪e͏̫͉̤͔r̳̦̞̭e̻̞̘̭͎n͖'͏t͉͖̣ͅ ̰̯̘̰͈͎ͅḏ̪ͅe̻̻̟̯͍̮̘a̟̬͘d͕͝,͓ ̯̥̮̩̟̝̀L̻̲͕̕it͉̭̠͙͔t̶͈l̴̹̭̯͉e͇̼̠ G̛̯̳̞h̞̥ò͔̜̰s̫̙̳͈͚̙t̷̬̼̘̺̻”

 

His breath hitched in his throat. But he wouldn’t run away, not this time. He knew he couldn’t run anymore. He had to make Bill pay.

 

He whirled around, as if looking for the triangular terror.

 

“Wh-where are you?!” He demanded, “show yourself!”

 

"̣̤̺͔͈̮͎I̱͍̣͉ ̖c͢o͏͈̳̘̯̩u̢͉̥̼̤l̤̫̟͔̰ͅd͔ ͔̳a̭̬͟s҉̟͈̻̞̗k̥̜͙ ̣͎͘t͓̬̰̻̣̞ḫ͎̰̯̣̜̤e̵̮͉͈̰̺ ̹s̶̮̺͕̪̜ͅa̸̳͙m̷e̫̤̦ ó̲̳f̞̹̣ ̛̫y͖o̝ͅu͉.͈̭̰͙̲̳̹̀"̸͍̥̯͍̼̱

 

“I’m not afraid of you, you know. Not anymore.”

 

_ "͘L͇̫̱I̝͠A҉R̟̭.̥͜"̬̻͔͔̣̞̰ _

 

The tension, that sense of foreboding, only grew, and Norman could feel his legs beginning to shake, his heart pounding, his breath getting quicker. He  _ was _ afraid still, wasn’t he? Every fiber of his being was screaming out for him to start running, to start trying to escape, but he forced himself to stand as still as he could through all the trembling. He wouldn’t let Bill win.

 

“I’m  _ not _ afraid of you,” he lied through clenched teeth, reminding himself just who he was doing this for. Dipper and Mabel and Pacifica were counting on him. And his family deserved a world where they could be safe. “We’re not gonna let you win, Bill! Not this time!”

 

It seemed as if the entire forest was shaking with the force of Bill’s laughter, that evil sound that echoed from all around him so that Norman couldn’t possibly find a source, rattling him to his very bones.

 

“What are you gonna do, Little Ghost?” Suddenly, the voice switched. Bill was using Agent Collins’ voice - and he was right behind Norman, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking low against the back of one of the medium’s big ears. 

 

“I-” Norman was shaking now, unable to formulate a response.

 

“What are you gonna do?” Bill repeated, still in that voice of the body he had stolen. “Are you going to kill me? Don’t make me laugh. You can’t even fall asleep without being terrified of me!”

 

Norman gulped audibly, before pulling away, stumbling a little in his efforts to put some distance between himself and Bill. Damn it, he  _ was _ still afraid. It wasn’t fair.

 

Bill laughed, and the medium whirled around to glare at him, biting down on his lip as he stood to face the body of Agent Collins, with those glowing yellow eyes and that too-wide grin.

 

“You realise if you kill me, Agent Collins - the real Agent Collins - dies. His spirit hasn’t been in this body for years. You know better than anyone what happens when someone’s spirit leaves their body for too long, don’t you?”

 

Norman glared harder.

 

“Agent Shaw, Agent Collins… how many more people are you gonna kill, Little Ghost? One more and you’re officially a serial killer!”

 

“I’m not-” he began to protest, but Bill cut him off with more of that awful laughter.

 

“ _ Aren’t _ you?” Just as before, Agent Collins’ body began to decay right before Norman’s eyes, but Bill was going slower this time, teasingly slow. The skin bloated and turned green, then shriveled and got darker. As it began to slough off, Norman balled his fists.

 

“I’m not going to let you scare me off,” he glared at the disintegrating corpse before him. Just like the last time, the skeleton collapsed and left only Bill, the floating golden triangle with that one glaring eye. “I’m not going to let you call me a monster, like- like  _ you _ . I’m  _ nothing _ like you.”

 

Bill’s singular eye took one look at the way Norman’s legs were still shaking. Then, through more laughter:

 

“W͕̰̤͍e͖̥̖̹̰̮̖'̜̗ḷ͎̘l̜̱̬̺̗̰ ̡̭̜̟̞̳̰̦s͈͖̭̼̫͔̳e͝e͠ ̴̙̣̤͕a͖̻͇͙̠̰b̘̲̣o̼̞̙̥̦̫̰u͚̗͈t͙ ̹̹͟t̹͓̖̖hat̜͈̳̯̹̼̙,̫̳̭̖̪̣͓ ̀ͅL̪i̙̬̺̪̣̭͞ͅt̞̼̝̰̗t̲̦͕͘l͉̤̠̘̝̻e̲̤͔̪ ̥̤̭̯̳G͎̙h̗̦̬ò̫̬s͎̖͍t̬̬̬͕͉”

 

***

 

_ WASHINGTON, D. C. _

 

It was strange, Norman reflected, being treated to brunch when he landed by Pacifica and Mabel. It was strange being asked if there was anything he wanted to do or see, as if this were a vacation. It was strange deciding over dinner that they’d go “turn themselves in” to the FBI the next day in an attempt to lure Bill out so Norman could defeat him once and for all. (And it was even stranger that the other three thought he even could.) It was strange getting a nice hotel room rather than a questionable motel.

 

It was strange to think this might be his last night on Earth.

 

Truth be told, it still hadn’t fully sunk in. Norman wasn’t quite sure it ever would. 

 

Especially not with everyone around him acting like this was just some normal vacation trip to the nation’s capital, like there wasn’t a significant chance that he may not return to this hotel room the following night. It was hard to focus on the terrible horror movie Dipper had put on when that thought kept returning to the medium’s mind over and over and over.

 

But when he thought about his sister crying to Pacifica like that over lost hopes, when he thought about Mabel’s laughter, or all the happiness and security Dipper deserved… what other choice did he have? They couldn’t have those hopes or that laughter or that happiness as long as Bill was around. 

 

Everything Norman was had always been about helping other people - about helping the dead and saving the living. And now that he was finally on the cusp of learning to accept himself - and maybe even to love himself - now that he was relearning to see himself as a human being and not as a monster or freak… he had to put himself in a situation where he could very well die.

 

And it would have been so much easier if he still didn’t value himself, but he  _ had _ to learn to value himself in order to even believe he could fight Bill Cipher in the first place.

 

Norman didn’t want to disappear anymore. He didn’t want to die. 

 

Why was it that now, when he wanted to exist, he had to sacrifice himself for the world?

 

For  _ his _ world. For his family and his friends. For his Dipper.

 

He was snapped out of that train of thought rather abruptly by the sensation of those strong arms he loved so much wrapping around his waist (even if one was still in a huge cast) and the feather-light brush of lips and chin hair and warm breath against the thin skin of his neck.

 

Norman shivered a little as his boyfriend kissed his neck. He’d always liked this - it made him feel so loved. And it wasn’t as if he and Dipper had really gotten the chance to do anything like this ever since this whole adventure had begun. And yet…

 

“Dipper… what’re you doing?” he murmured softly. The room was dark other than the glow of the television, and this whole situation almost didn’t feel real.

 

Dipper’s only response was to move himself closer, pressing his whole form against Norman as his lips found the area where Norman’s neck met his shoulder.

 

“C-c’mon,” the younger man tried again, biting back a little whimper. “Where did this even come from? Dip…”

 

“Shhh. You’ll like it.”

 

There was a strange wavering quality to the tone of Dipper’s reply, and Norman perked up. Something wasn’t right.

 

“Dip…?” he blinked large blue eyes, confused, and brought a hand up to grab at one of Dipper’s. “What is it?”

 

“I… I might not get a chance to do this ever again,” the older man admitted, “so… so I just thought…”

 

And that’s when Norman realised the wavering in Dipper’s voice was because he was crying. The wetness on his neck wasn’t saliva, but tears.

 

“Oh, Dipper…” he sighed, turning to his side and bringing both his arms up to rest around his boyfriend’s shoulders, which were now shaking. He wished he knew what to say that could comfort him, but what could be said? He couldn’t say it would be alright because he didn’t  _ know _ if it would be alright, and he wasn’t about to lie, not to Dipper.

 

“I- I don’t want-”

 

“Shhh,” it was his turn to shush his boyfriend. “I know. I know you don’t, Dipper. I… I love you, okay? You know that, don’t you? I love you more than anyone.”

 

He could feel Dipper nodding against his neck.

 

“I love you, too…”

 

Norman didn’t know what else to say. He bit his lip, holding Dipper there in absolute silence in the darkened hotel room. And then…

 

“You… You come back to me, okay?” Dipper’s voice was quiet. “R-remember, you promised to always come back. You  _ promised _ .”

 

Norman nodded. He remembered. But they both knew he couldn’t promise anything anymore. They both knew he might not make it out of this. And they both knew this was the way it had to be, for the good of the entire world.

 

“If you… If…” the older man continued, but was unable to get the words out. “...even if the w-worst possible thing happens… I’m not gonna let everybody keep thinking we’re criminals. I- I’ll tell the story. I’ll tell  _ your _ story. I’ll make sure everybody knows what you did for them. No matter what happens. I promise you that much.”

 

“...thank you, Dipper.”

 

And after that, Dipper - the one who always babbled when nervous, who never could stomach uncomfortable silences - went completely quiet.

 

Even Dipper had no more words. In this situation, there was nothing he could say either. Nothing he could do but pull Norman to his chest as they both remembered all the nights they’d spent like this. Together. 

 

All either one of them could do was lay there in the heartbreaking silence and try to come to terms with what was happening.

 

All Norman could do was let Dipper hold him and cry himself to sleep on what might have been the last night they would ever spend together in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word about the name of this chapter: Arcturus is a star known as “the guardian of the bear” due to its close proximity to the ursus/bear constellations - the dippers. Likewise, Norman has taken on an active role in this fight in order to protect Dipper. You may recall earlier in the story, Bill mentioned ‘operation Arcturus’, in that case meaning to refer to him monitoring Dipper as he fled across the country. I think Norman makes a much better guardian, don’t you?


	23. Cassiopeia Unbound

_ WASHINGTON, D.C. _

 

Giorgio the hot dog vendor had been peddling this same spot on Pennsylvania Avenue with his hot dog cart for nearly a decade. And every week, without fail, at least once a week (usually more) Special Agent Ross Collins of the FBI would step out of the J. Edgar Hoover building on his lunch break and grab a hot dog from Giorgio’s cart. Giorgio had been there with the agent through his divorce, and he’d been there when something about Agent Collins had… changed. 

 

It was as if Collins was a completely different person than he was five years ago. He was more ruthless, now. More cunning. But his money was the same, so Giorgio didn’t complain.

 

The hot dog man had no way of knowing how different today would be.

 

Predictably, Collins marched up to him at the same time he always did. He barked out his usual order disrespectfully, the way he always had since he had changed after the divorce. Giorgio’s eye caught on some young adults some distance away as he counted out Collins’ change. Tourists, probably. He would normally have paid them no mind. Except…

 

...one of them was unmistakably tall, with spiky hair. Giorgio recognised this young man from the news - the same news that had said the “Montauk Madmen” were  _ dead _ . His eyes widened, and he crossed himself.

 

“Well?!” Collins demanded, holding out a hand for his change.

 

Giorgio’s mouth failed to find the words - he could only point.

 

The FBI agent turned towards where his finger was pointing. And then, the strangest thing happened.

 

Collins’ eyes turned yellow. Bright, demonic  _ yellow _ . And he started laughing in a voice that was not his own, bellowing out:

 

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Little Ghost himself - in the  _ flesh _ !”

 

Giorgio could only cross himself again, duck under his hot dog cart, and begin to pray.

 

***

 

Norman still wasn’t entirely clear on what the plan was. Now that they were here, now that Bill had spotted them, he didn’t entirely  _ care _ . Without even thinking about it, he defensively threw his arms out to either side of him, standing in front of the Pines twins and Pacifica.

 

“Get back,” he warned them. “Keep everyone else safe in case he calls in back-up.”

 

“Norman… you don’t have to do this,” Dipper tried one last time. Norman didn’t blame him. 

 

But he shook his head in reply. He  _ did _ have to do this. He replied with the first thing that came to his head:

 

“We’re paranormal investigators, Dip. It’s an occupational hazard.”

 

And then, he closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. And  _ remembered _ .

 

He remembered all the times that Bill had tormented him and his friends over the years, either directly or indirectly. He remembered fear and shame. He remembered Dipper confessing he had once been possessed, he remembered watching Pacifica’s body knock the Pines twins around with a strength that was not her own, he remembered the fear in Emily O’Reilly’s ghostly face as she was forced back into the nightmare realm. He remembered the nightmares - god, the nightmares. And he remembered almost dying.

 

All because of Bill.

 

“What are you gonna do, Little Ghost?!” Bill demanded, laughing. “What are you gonna do?! Tell me you’re not afraid?! Prove me wrong, go right ahead!” 

 

A crowd had begun to gather. People were yelling at one another, wondering if they were really seeing an FBI agent face off with a terrorist that the news had said was dead.

 

Norman breathed in and out, trying to tap into his own anger without letting it consume him. It was hard to let himself go, knowing that people could get hurt if he screwed this up. He wasn’t in a warehouse in Oakland anymore, after all.

 

“Go on, do it!” Bill continued to taunt, igniting one of Collins’ hands with his blue flame. “Try and kill me, Little Ghost - you don’t have the guts! You don’t have it in you to do what I can do! You’re  _ weak _ !”

 

“He isn’t weak, Bill!” Dipper’s voice sounded from somewhere behind Norman, and while the medium appreciated it, it wasn’t helping his concentration any more than Bill’s taunts were. 

 

Could he really do this?

 

Bill only laughed in reply. And with a snap of his fingers - Collins’ fingers - red, hellish flames began to spontaneously spring up all along Pennsylvania Avenue. 

 

Someone in the gathering crowd screamed, and Norman realised that Bill wouldn’t spare any of the curious strangers. He had to do this for them, too.

 

He  _ had _ to do this, whether or not he was ready.

 

Feeling the lightning coursing under his skin, making his veins light up in that slightly-blue green colour, Norman took another deep breath, this one shakier.

 

“I’m  _ waiting _ , Little Ghost!”

 

It was now or never.

 

Hoping he could keep the anger under control, he finally gave in.

 

The results were instantaneous. Norman’s vision tinted bluish-green, and he could hear tiny cracks of lightning in his ear which masked the gasps in the crowd of onlookers. He felt warmer, now, and could feel himself rising into the air, could see his skin bursting into pure electric energy.

 

He had to do this for all those people. For his family. For Dipper, whose voice echoed in Norman’s head over and over - a chorus of  _ ‘I’m not half as strong as you are. I need you.’ _ cycling around his skull and adding fuel to his lightning’s fire.

 

But Bill? Bill only laughed some more, right in his face.

 

“ _ This _ is your big plan?!” the possessed man’s voice boomed out. “You- you absolute  _ imbecile _ ! You don’t even know how to work that power like I do! Face it, Little Ghost - you’ve  _ already _ lost!”

 

“You- Nn…” Norman stumbled a little, his vision fluctuating wildly between teal and yellow-green. “You…”

 

“I what? I  _ what _ ?!”

 

“...you  _ don’t know me at all _ !”

 

Suddenly, the medium was lunging across the air, feeling his power surge as lightning burst off of him. He met the possessed agent’s body in mid-air, screaming his rage into his face as he tried to surround him with lightning. It was instinct. Norman hadn’t even known he could do it. But he was determined to contain Bill. He wouldn’t let him hurt anyone else.

 

“You’ve tormented me for almost a decade! You made me think I was going crazy and you tried to kill me and you tried to kill  _ Dipper _ and- and how  _ dare _ you assume that you know anything about me at all?!”

 

He felt so powerful as he screamed. And so very  _ angry _ . It had seemed like a righteous anger at first, but now… now Norman didn’t care if it was right or not. All he cared about was making Bill  _ pay _ .

 

His hands - if the lightning bolts in front of him could even be called hands anymore - wrapped around Collins’ wrists, as if trying to keep Bill from striking him, and he continued to yell angrily, losing more and more of himself to it:

 

“How dare you?! How fucking dare you?! I’ll make you pay, I’ll-”

 

Suddenly, he stopped. No. Revenge was  _ Bill’s _ thing. Not Norman’s. He wouldn’t let himself become that. He wasn’t here to get Bill back - he was here to stop him.

 

That momentary hesitation, however, was enough for Bill to suddenly slam his body into the ground. The face of the man he was possessing looked less and less like Collins by the second, it was so contorted, the eyes red. Norman could feel claws holding his wrists down, and he was fairly sure he’d cracked the pavement beneath him.

 

He screamed, an unearthly, inhuman screech, feeling white-hot bolts of energy escaping his form as he did, but still, Bill held tight, responding to Norman’s screams in that awful nightmare voice:

 

"̤͕̦̙̕D̡̲̬̘̼̞o̦̕n͙̠'̷͚ț̤ ͞y͏̥̣̭͎̗o̭̦͇ų̮̟͚ ̭͙̱͍̰gȩ͕̭͓̯͇̞̱t́ ̟̭͠ͅi͇̱t̮͎̺,̫̞̞̭̥̺ ̬Ḷ̢̻̞̬͓͚̟i̢ţ̞͚̣t̢̞l̦͚ẹ ̧̱͔̳͖̠G̗̼̤̣͉̰h̦͖̤͉͚̠̻o̢̘s̭t̫̲͜?̛̩ͅ ̯̝T̤̘̺̯̼̟h̥̗̗͖͠ͅi̺̩̟̪s̫͙̻͈ ͏̣͎p̧̖̯̺͎̞̝͔o̝͎̲̼w̗e̥ͅr̻̯̦ ̧wa̟̱ͅs̮̺̖͠ͅn'̬̠̙t̠̹͇͉̠̞̭͡ ̣̙̖̤͔̀m̺̺̮̮e͖̣͡a̶̮͍̦͉n͕̖̱͔̟͡t͓̩̹̪ ̶̙̰̳f̹o̼̜̯͔r͢ ͙͇͓̬̝͢y͉̟̻̦͕͙o̴̗̥̺͎͍ͅu͔ ̩̥̭͓̘-̡̩̜̖ ̦͚͚y̵̩o͈u̩̙̖͓̣̖̺͞'̻̟l̫̦̩̘l͖ ̯͔̪̬̟n͎̱͔͇e̲̗͓̹̼͎͜ͅv̜̥͔̝̮̫͡e͜r͈ ̨b͈͍͇͠ͅe҉̮͓ ̫̖̗̟̯̣a͏̜͕b̠̼̰̥͔ͅĺ̮̳̻̤̝̣e̟͍͓̰̹͍̮͡ t͈̬͉͇̦̮o҉͍ ͇̝̯͔̹̕c͉̠͘o̧͎͈͍n̘̰͈t̙͚̝͈r͇̟͉o͓͚̫̝͜ͅl̰͉͕͡ ̷į̟͎̣̦͎̱̳ṭ̳͖̼̯̦͝!̯͎̥̰"̩͓̹͉͚͖

 

The medium’s eyes narrowed. No - that  _ couldn’t _ be true! Feeling the rage and horror and sadness and protectiveness all bubbling up inside him, he screamed again.

 

This time, it caused something akin to a small explosion. Norman barely even noticed when it happened. He just saw everything go white for a second - and then, suddenly, he was no longer restrained, floating in the air above Collins’ charred body, which still had the red eyes of Bill’s possession.

 

It had been a good, powerful blow. Bill looked weaker now. Norman knew all he had to do was weaken Collins’ body enough to expel him, and then he could end this, once and for all.

 

But rather than looking scared, or even impressed, Bill just started to laugh again, harder this time.

 

“What,” Norman clenched his lightning-clad fists, causing little blue-green sparks to fly off of him in all directions, “is so funny?”

 

“You- you  _ idiot _ !” the triangular abomination replied in that high-pitched, shrill voice of his. “Do you  _ know _ how many people are watching you?! And they’re all filming you - the whole world is going to see what you just did, and they’re all gonna know you’re a  _ freak _ !”

 

Norman whipped his head around, showering more lightning sparks to the ground. Sure enough, a crowd had gathered. Police had arrived, though Dipper and Mabel were doing their best to keep them back away from the final battle. And people’s smartphones were going crazy - all pointed at him.

 

Everyone would see. His parents would see.

 

For a split second, the medium felt terrified, his lightning’s colour jumping from teal to almost-yellow.

 

Bill took advantage of that, and pounced, pinning him down to the ground again and causing him to yelp as his face was forced into the concrete.

 

“The whole world knows you’re a monster. They all can see you’re no better than I am. There’s nothing heroic or special about you - you’re a  _ monster _ . Just. Like.  _ Me _ .”

 

“I’m  _ nothing _ like you!” Norman ignited even more, throwing Bill off him and levitating them both into the air - away from the crowds, away from where his lightning could hurt anyone. “Yeah, maybe the whole world is going to see me like this? But- but so what? So what if they see my fear and my anger? So what if they’re scared? I was scared too, at first. But- but just because people get scared - just because  _ I _ got scared - doesn’t make me a monster!” He punctuated his words with another blow to Collins’ chest, hoping it was only a little more until Bill was pushed out. “It doesn’t make me like you! All you know is  _ hate _ ! And hate is easy - and some of those people are going to take the easy way and hate me for this - but I’m still going to save them from you because I’m  _ not _ you. I’m going to love them. And I’m going to save them.”

 

“...then you’re weaker than I thought, Little Ghost.”

 

“Wha-” the medium began to gasp out in surprise, but was cut off with a sudden unimaginable pain that caused him to scream uncontrollably. He knew immediately what it was, of course. He wasn’t stupid. 

 

Bill was  _ burning _ him.

 

The red Eldritch flames burned slowly, and other than that awful and shrill laughter Norman could only hear his own dreadful shrieks of agony. It was the fullest possible torment.

 

"̧Ĺ̗̪͔̣o̭͢ok̠,̣̩̰̳̻͟ ̷͎̰̺̦L͟i̦͕͟t̶t̢̲̯͎̫̲͎̣l͍͍̱͝e͎͕͚̦͙̣ ̥͈̫ͅG̳͓̫͔hos̨͕͇͚͖t̳̮͕̮͞"̢̤̭̭͈͔ͅ

 

He didn’t know if Bill was speaking out loud or right into his mind. It didn’t matter. Norman shrieked again.

 

"̮̤̞̪ͅL̺̙͞o̴̖̥̪͓͍͈ͅo̥̝̱̗̖̞͍k̰̮̪ ̫͍̤̝a̵̦͍t̫̞ͅ ҉̺̦̝a̖̲͖̠ḻ̞͎͡l̝̺̙̩͈̼̺ ͙t̞̣̟̬h̷̯͖͉̱̙̮͇o̜̱͕͎͕ͅse̘̖͈̲̘̱ ̶̞̞̮p̘̼e̷͍͙̬̣̜͙o̭̲̦̲͕̟͢p̨̯̳l҉͙͍̣̩e ͍͉̯͉̲̜y͢o̗͇̫̳̕ú͈̙ ̰f̗̠̳̮ḁi̡̝̮̦̫̱l̖̼͓̟̤͈͓é̜̹̣͚d̰͓͉̙̳ ̳̫̹̤ͅͅt͈̘̰̼̮o͉̟̞ ̠͡s̸̠̺̫a̶̮v̘̰̜̪ͅe҉̤̼̬͓̟.̺͔ͅ"̯̬̰̮͉̬͇

 

“N-No-!”

 

"̸̰͔͙͚̺L̰͈͖͜oo̻͎̗̦̞̙k̼͕͖̥͕ ̸͎̳̻̥a̺t̵̠͍͕͉ ̱w̵͓h̛̯͎͕ḁ̦̥̝̼̣ț͔͉̖͈ͅ ͟ỵ̰̲͇̮͡o͙̘̩̯͚̖u̳̭̺ ̫͙̞͚ḑ͓̬̙̬i͎̟͔̤d̳̻̫̟̖̱.̞̺̺̠̻̘ͅ ̧͖̫͙̖͙L̙̗̩͖̳̲͜o̙̩̙̣̦̥o̤̲̟ͅͅk̖̫̙̹̥̦̱ ͅa̮͝t͏̪͈ ͈̫͔̱̥P͚̰̩í̼̩̳̼̺ne̪̙ ̣͖̗̹̣T̮͙͚̘͢r̜͝e͖̼̜̲̹ͅe̜.̖̝͙"̗

 

That gave him definite pause. What did Bill mean by that? Norman snapped his eyes up.

 

What he saw shocked him.

 

The sky was no longer blue, but a terrifying blood red. The ground was in pieces, that same unearthly red light illuminating the cracks that spread around it. And Dipper… where was Dipper?

 

"̰͚͙̲A̻̭̠͖̰̞l̙͙l̛̯̤̥̖͉͈̗ ̘̞̰͖̠͠t̨͕h̴̘̬̮̣a̳̹͎͕t̰͖ ̜͉e̴ͅf̺͇̣̦͔͔͖͜f̪̯̖͔̘̭o͈̼̯͉̖r͏̟͕̲̱̦t̨͔̭̻̝̹͉̱ ͍̖̼̖f̵o̤r̪͚͕̠̳̥͟ ͙̠͜n̞̦̗̖̣ǫ̯͇̖͎͔t̷͕̲̗h̻̪͡i̳͖n̴̹̙̞ģ.̼͇ ̥I͉̝̜̠̹͈͕ņ͙̝̩͉ͅ ̗t̡ḥ̲̭̞͈͜e̪͓͍̥̲͘ ͉͔̲̤̳͟e̥n̢̠͙ͅͅͅd̮̳͖͠,͕͇͎͎̦̠ ̬͎̗͖̙̙̙̕y̸̙̰o͇̫̰u̘̳͈͎̼̻'͈̰̙͖͉͓̕r̡̪̩̯e̥̯̲̩ͅ ̴͔̭͍̠͖̤ͅṱ͇̗͙̩ḩ͉̼͓̺̼͚̜e̝͕͚̝ ͙̖̣͖o̺͢n̵e͍̟͉̮͡ ̺̻̤̙͓͕w̲̜̮͈̥̭͝h̫͙̦̹o̵̺͕̱̮̩͚̬ ̤̺́k̳i̫͙͔̺̱͝l͖̫̼͎̤͓̖l̘͉͚͞e͘d̰ h̳̣͇̬̫͔̝͢i͏̪̩̩̹̹̰ḿ̭.̜͎̫̥͜ N̸̼̦̯̺̝̰͓o̻̯̞͢t͚͖̯̯̦̣̟͘ ͙͈̯͖m͞è̲̦͕̱͇̜.̟͙̟̥"͈̥͖̗

 

The voice was no longer coming from Collins’ body. It was universal. It was all around him. And Norman…

 

...without Dipper, what was there left to fight for? He felt like he was about to cry. But instead, he ignited, his vision tinting yellow-green as that thirst for revenge flooded through his veins

 

“You- You _ took him away from me! _ ”

 

There was another small explosion as Norman pushed all the strength he had into that power, throwing Collins’ body off of him with sheer force of strength, propelling it into the pavement a few feet away. That wasn’t enough.

 

“ _ I’ll make you suffer! _ ”

 

He rose up into the air again - the levitation didn’t even require concentration anymore; it was more as if the force of his anger was what propelled him upwards. He balled his hands into fists and screamed wordlessly, causing lightning to rain down from his body onto Collins’. He’d tear Bill into tiny fucking  _ pieces _ for this!

 

“I told you you were weak. One measly human man goes down and you lose your mind?”

 

“Norman! It’s not real!” A familiar voice cried out.

 

“No!” Norman shook his head, covered his ears. It felt like he was being ripped in two directions, like he had two faces, one still screaming and one fighting back sobs. He trembled, each tremble shooting off green lightning in a random direction. “No! No, I don’t want your illusions or- or tricks, Bill!  _ No _ !”

 

“He’s lying to you!” Dipper’s voice didn’t stop.

 

“No!” 

 

“It’s not real, I’m not dead!” Still, the voice of his beloved wouldn’t go away. What trick was Bill Cipher playing?! “Norman, listen to me - I’m not dead, I’m  _ not _ ! And- and even if I was, you can’t give up!”

 

...wait,  _ what _ ?

 

“What about Mabel and Pacifica? What about Courtney and your parents? There are so many people who need you! Don’t throw yourself into darkness even if you think I’m gone - think about everybody else! And then… and then save the world! Because nobody else can.”

 

And that’s when Norman realised.

 

Dipper was alive. It was his death that had been an illusion. Because Dipper’s voice saying it wasn’t real? That could easily have been Bill Cipher trying to get him to let his guard down. But that abomination would never think to bring up the other people Norman loved. 

 

Because that was  _ Bill’s _ weakness. He didn’t understand love. He only understood chaos and death.

 

Bill had dragged him into the dreamscape in a last-ditch effort to break his spirit - which meant that despite his words, Bill was scared. And that meant Norman had a chance at winning after all.

 

Norman could use this. Love was the one form of energy Bill couldn’t understand. Before, when Norman had been angry and vengeful, Bill had laughed because he could use that, he could tap into the destructive power of revenge and hatred and widen the scope of his nightmare realm. But if the medium stopped hating and started loving and protecting and caring about all those people… Bill couldn’t beat that. It wasn’t a weakness. It was humanity’s greatest strength!

 

It was all so clear now.

 

Feeling renewed, Norman let his lightning go teal again, his vision flickering between the dreamscape with the red sky and the real world with the growing crowd of onlookers. He screamed again, but it was more controlled this time, more triumphant, all his sparks being directed at Collins’ body in an effort to force Bill out.

 

He lifted up into the sky and turned to see… not Agent Collins, whose form still lay on the ground, but Bill Cipher in his triangular body. It had worked.

 

And he knew what he had to do now.

 

He wouldn’t let Bill hurt Dipper or Mabel or Pacifica or any of those people. He loved them too much for that.

 

"̮͚͖Y̶̦͚o̥̞͕̠̼͘u҉͕̯͕'͔̙r̙̝̭̳̳ę̼̞̫̞̖͕͓ ͓͕̻̪̤͟b̬̫̙̬̥ͅe̶̹̰̫̱g̳͇͓̭̪i͖͖͖̫̜͡n̡̟ņ̱̝̺͔̤̲̝i͕͞ǹ̘̬̼̩̞g̺̮̤̼ ̥͈̤ṭ͖̥̗̙̱ͅo͎̫͓͚͓͉ ̼̩͎͕͖͍̳t̛̞r̷̭̭̲̩̜̱͇y̯̟͞ ̹͘m̼̰͓͈̤̲y ̤̲̺͕̳p̣̪a͕̰͓͔͈̯̗t̻̤͟i̹͇̰͈̟̥ͅe̯͚nc̶͍̗̰͔͙̭̥e̠̣͔̝,̠̻̙̥̲̳ L̟̱̯͖͓͇̰i͙͎̜͠t̵t͎͔̕l̖̫̫e ̳̰̺G͚̞̠̠͞h̹̰̟̭̺͜ͅơ̫͙̤s͚̻͟t̨.̲̝̩͖̪̝͜"͖

 

“You want my lightning, Bill? Come and get it.”

 

He didn’t know if he could actually fly. The levitating was easy enough but Norman didn’t know how far it would take him. Still, he had to try. He willed himself straight up, towards the top of the J. Edgar Hoover building, away from where anyone could be hurt. He wouldn’t allow another death scare. He wouldn’t lose himself again, wouldn’t lose sight of the love he had for humanity. He had to get up there. Just a little more…

 

"̸̡͍̺͙̻̙̱͔̠̦̞̖̤̞͍͘͢͠ͅO̭̳̦͇̕H͡҉͈͇̣͇͚̥͔̠͖͚͉̬̪͔̯̟͍̣̕ ̛͎̟͓̕͝ͅN҉̛͚̥̫̬̳̤̫͡O͏̮̰͈̬͚͚̪̬̻̦͇ͅ ҉̳̦͔̠̯̠̗̭̖̜̤͖̻̩͞͞Ỳ̷͏̠͈̜̺̝͉̦̖͖̯̤̩̠͓͙̙̙͓Ó̢̺̥̙̬̭̟͉̗̩̗͉̮̤̘̲̲̀͟ͅU̡͔̲̭͇̣̼̠̠̖͓̦̕͟ ̵̧̲̝͔̠̭̲͎̝̦̪̙̠̦̟̮̙͍͕̻D̢̹̫̩̝̯̫̫́ͅƠ҉͕̜̹̝͎͇̝͚̥̼̯̥̳̣͎̤̮̼́ͅŃ̘͖̭̤̝̘̼̤͟͜͠'̵̸̴̙̦̝̯̙̙͚͓̭͙͙̺̰̜̘͙͖̯͇T̶҉͕̞̯̠͍̩̞̞̻̗̲̗̺͔̘͓̼ͅ"̴̨̼̯̗̯̩̺̯̪͕̯̩͙͘͝͞

̕͏̴̗͇̼͕͡͡ͅ

  
  


A hand wrapped around his ankle, attempted to pull him down. Norman yelped - when had Bill gained a physical form?! Had it been from his earlier anger? Was  _ that _ why he’d wanted to push him with those illusions?! And if he fell from this distance, the young man knew he’d die.

 

He kicked, desperately, and tried to grab hold to any part of the building he could, but Bill was fighting just as hard.

 

Something gashed his side - maybe one of Bill’s claws, maybe the building itself, Norman didn’t know. Either way, it  _ hurt _ , and he could feel the blood dripping.

 

His lightning fizzled out as the pain muted all his strong emotions. 

 

And then, he was falling.

 

***

 

_ BLITHE HOLLOW, MASSACHUSETTS _

 

Having the television on as background noise had been Courtney’s idea. It had only been intended to keep the silence from getting too awkward - her father and her still weren’t exactly on speaking terms - but she was immensely grateful that she’d even had the idea when the screen suddenly showed a newscaster saying:

 

“We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this urgent news bulletin.”

 

Courtney could hardly pay attention to what the newscaster was saying when she saw what was on the screen next.

 

Her baby brother - Norman was alive, in Washington D.C., and being turned into… was that lightning? And what was that triangle thing ripping itself out of that strange man’s body?!

 

Someone said “demon possession” - maybe it was the news, maybe it was Sandra. Courtney didn’t care. Norman was  _ alive _ !

 

“N-Norman,” Sandra gasped out in shock.

 

“How far is Washington D.C.?!” her father’s voice boomed next to her. She whipped her head to face him, her blonde ponytail bobbing against her back as she did so.

 

“Dad! Who  _ cares _ how far?! We have to get there  _ now _ ! We have to get to Norman! We have to-”

 

...they had to what? What were they going to do for him if he was battling a demon or a monster or whatever that was?

 

“...we have to support him,” Perry nodded, placing a big, strong hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

 

It was the first time she’d agreed with her father in what felt like way too long.

 

“I’ll start the car,” she replied, determination spreading throughout her, filling the holes that the grief had left.

 

They had to get to Norman.

 

***

 

_ WASHINGTON, D.C. _

 

Pacifica had seen Norman falling before Dipper had. He had been occupied with trying to push a particularly belligerent crowd member back when her scream had alerted him. (For the most part, the police had stopped trying to get at “the terrorists” when Bill had tried to expand the dreamscape and escaped the confines of Collins’ body. Only then, did people start to understand that Norman was on their side - and some had even begun to cheer him on, though Norman didn’t seem able to even hear that just yet.)

 

The older man could feel his heart dropping to his stomach as he watched his boyfriend’s lightning flicker and go out completely, his slightly-limp body scraping down the side of the J. Edgar Hoover building while Bill Cipher hovered in the sky over them all.

 

He didn’t even think - he just ran, hoping to get to the base of the building before Norman did. He wouldn’t let him fall to his death - they couldn’t fail against Bill, not now. They wouldn’t get another chance. And Norman had been doing so  _ well _ , too!

 

Dipper wouldn’t let it be over.

 

He got to the base of the building right as Norman did.

 

“Oh god, oh my god,” he babbled, “please don’t be unconscious…”

 

“Nn,” Norman’s voice was weak, and he looked exhausted, but he wasn’t unconscious. “...‘mnot…”

 

“I’ve got you,” Dipper went to try and lift him up into a sitting position, only for his good hand to be confronted with a familiarly warm and slick texture. Sure enough, when he pulled his hand away from Norman’s side, it was coated in blood.  _ Norman’s _ blood.

 

For one terrifying moment, he felt sick, like the world was spinning just a bit too fast.

 

But there was no time for panic. Norman was staring at him, almost expectantly.

 

“Is it bad?” the medium asked.

 

“I… I don’t know,” Dipper decided to be honest with him, and his boyfriend responded with a little sigh.

 

“This isn’t going very well, is it? What if… what if I’m not strong enough to stop him after all?”

 

That, more than anything, twisted Dipper’s heart.

 

Norman didn’t think he was  _ strong _ enough? This whole journey had been nothing but a  _ testament _ to Norman’s strength! When they were on the run, Norman had kept Dipper sane. When Dipper had almost died in Nevada, it had been Norman who had saved his life and gotten him out of there. Even aliens from outer space had seen the inner fire blazing bright within those bluest of blue eyes, choosing him to share their story with -  _ trusting _ him to defeat Bill.

 

And if anything, this battle had showed Dipper that  _ he _ could trust Norman to do that, too. He believed in him without even having to want to. After all, even the policemen were rooting for him now. It was all so clear now. If he carried Norman away now, the medium would probably pass out and Dipper would hold him in his arms while the world ended. Or, he could go up and take one more hit and be killed anyway, and Dipper would hold a corpse while the world ended. But Dipper chose to believe in a third option. One where Norman won and the world didn’t end.

 

He looked his boyfriend right in the eyes, brown locked onto blue. And there was no hesitation - this time, Dipper believed it to - as he told him:

 

“You  _ can _ . I’ve never believed in anything as much as I believe in you.”

 

Norman’s eyes widened just a little bit. Then, he nodded, lifting himself up with newfound strength, standing before Dipper with blood on his shirt and determination in his eyes.

 

“Dipper… thank-”

 

“Don’t thank me,” the older man cut him off. “Get up there and save the world.”

 

Norman nodded again, once, before taking a breath and igniting again.

 

It was different this time, though. Before, back in Oakland - and even only a few minutes prior - Norman’s lightning had wavered between that almost-yellow shade of green when he was uncontrollably frightened or angry to that teal colour when he felt more in control. But now, the lightning that took over his entire form was a beautiful, clear shade of  _ blue _ , with no green in it at all.

 

It was, Dipper realised, the exact colour of Norman’s eyes. This wasn’t Norman’s power controlling him, not anymore. The medium was in complete control, Dipper’s trust in him having been the final piece to that puzzle.

 

People were speaking in hushed, awed tones all around him, but Dipper didn’t even hear what they were saying as he watched this beautiful blue rise up and shoot into the sky, like the most amazing comet in the entire cosmos.

 

“Ye-e-eah!” He cheered triumphantly as Norman got back up to the top of the building where Bill awaited him. He couldn’t believe he was watching this! This was incredible!

 

“You can do it, Norm!” Pacifica’s voice came from one side of him. He took her hand in his own, and was surprised when she squeezed it in return.

 

“We believe in you!” Mabel’s voice came from his other side, the side with cast. Dipper tried to take her hand anyway.

 

And then, they watched, believing in Norman with all of their might as bolts of blue shot from his hands right towards Bill’s eye.

 

***

 

Norman had never felt anything like this before. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t quite serene either. But he knew with every fiber of his being now that he would win. Dipper believed in him, after all, and Dipper was the smartest person he knew - Norman didn’t think someone that smart could possibly be wrong about something this big.

 

“B͏̪̖̱̥̳̩a̻̠̮̳̜̥͜c͔͜ͅk̤͈͙̪ ̹̤̼̖͙͍f͢o̬͞r ̘̞͔m̟̻͎̼͕͉o͕̲͚͕̙͈r̺̙e̛͇̱̱͕̪̺̱,̸͈̯̱͚̗̫̜ ͍͍a̦̲̻̥̪͓ͅr̞̞ͅe̡̮̞̯̘ ̰̟͓͙y̦͙̗͎̝̞̱o̘͍u̦̦̟̦̤?̲͖̙́”

 

Bill was trying to taunt him again, but Norman wasn’t having it. Not this time. He knew Bill was getting desperate. They both knew Bill was losing. he wouldn’t be so desperate if he wasn’t.

 

Norman dove directly at him, wasting no time, his entire, lightning-clad body colliding with Bill’s singular eyeball, sparking with all his might as he pushed and pushed.

 

There was a loud screeching sound that caused a ringing in Norman’s ears, but Bill wasn’t done yet. He pushed the medium off of him, causing him to scrape the roof of the building. Norman shook it off as best he could, rising a few feet in the air above the building just in time to catch Bill diving at  _ him _ .

 

Immediately upon contact, Bill combusted, red flame against blue lightning, causing a loud, purple-white explosion high in the air above the throngs of people below. Norman managed to send a rain of bright blue sparks off of his own body just to get Bill off of him, rolling himself over in the air to dodge more bursts of red flame coming right at him.

 

"̦͓̣̣̗̤̱͟Y̫͓͢o̷̻̜͚u͇ ͍̤͝t̨͙̪h̨͙̜̤̪̖͓ì̴̟̩̩̬̜̙̜̀n̞͜k̴̹̪̲̪̮͢ ̻͢ͅͅy͏̖͕͓͢͠ò̵̧͍̱̦͇̬͚u҉̯̻ ̺̹̙͢c̢̦͇͓͝á̢̲n̗̩ ̸̺̹̮̣͍r̸͔͔̪͙͎̙e̢͈̖͓̞̲̺͞ͅa̯̹͘l̯͖̯̭̜̥͎̺l̴̬͈̤͎̳͉̪̩͈̕͡y̸̟͈̪͕͍̱͔̤͢͠ ͇͖̱̜̻͉̩͓͜͠d̴̤̯̳͖͡ẹ̵̰̺̳͕͖͈͓͘f̼̹̻̀e̩͉̯̫̝̮̕ą̪̤̺̦̜̻̰͢t̸̫͚̙̙̣͟ ̱͚m̵̼̰͎͈e̛̼̻̕?͏̱̹͕͙͖͉͉͟͢ͅ!̷̱̼̦͓͈͈̹̖͜ ̧̧͎͘Y̫̭͎̣̥͕͈̹̙ò͏̟̝̠̦̰̩̮u͎͓̟͓̯͍̰ ̴̨̪͙̰̬̘̫̦t̼̫̼͓̘͇̱̫̲ḫ̀̕i̺̪̯̘̮̙̹̦̕͟͢ǹ̴̗̰̯k͍̻̟̹͇̫̕ ͚̜͈̗̹̞̖̩̻͢t̻̯̣͍̝̠̠͚͟h͚̗i̴̳̼͘͠s҉͎̜͕͇̻̤͉̯ ̡͈̠̮͞l̴̤̭͇͔̗̭̹̰̬i͔͓̫̺͕̹̜̰t͈̩̘͍t̴͈͈͕͓l͕̞̼̰̘̺͖͕͜ȩ̛̞̟̹̤̟͉̺̱ ̢͙̞̦͙̞̤̤̲̤͝ǵ͍̟̜a̘͖̱͍̙̙̖͎͠ͅm̷̛̗̙é͔͚̰̝̲̤̳̹͕̕ ̛̗̦͎̬͈̩̺͓i̴҉̣̗̩͕͎͚̟͓s̻̼͍̫̥̙͕̮͈̀ ҉̸͎̠͙̟̩̙̻͡r̴̞͝ͅe͍̪̮͓͚͢ạ̳͖̕l͏̷͉̩̼̤ͅl̮͉̭̲̜͇̙y̨͙̤̙̹̟̳̼̺ͅ ͕͉̫̥̺͉g̢̳͚̥o͚͙̗̪͎i̟̤̝n͙̺̲̫͢g̴̹̳ ̨̙̼̤ṱ͉̜͕̬̣͝ͅo̶̫ ͚͈ͅw̧̢̰̣o͏͍̖̭̞̖̟̝͢r̰͍̰̫͕̣͖͈͘͢ͅk͚̙͕͇̺͈̘,̵̻̣̲͔͓̣̭ ̛̮̠͟y͇͎̜̕ͅo̻͙̞̝̹̼̰̼̖u̸̶͙̮͖̝̗̭͇ͅ-̨̹̖̤̀͜ ̢͖̫́͝ͅy͏͔͉͖͉̰̲̻͍̙o̹̹͉̪̯̭͠u͎͕͉͎̼̺͕̹ ̩̭͙́͢͢F͏̭͕̮̭̣̹Ŗ̷̪̫̮̥͓͔̘E͎̠͎̘Á̷̗͍Ḵ̦́?̹̟̣͕̻̼̳!̰"̲ͅ

 

Norman didn’t respond to that. Bill’s words didn’t hurt him anymore. He whipped his head around, and didn’t even have to scream this time. He just  _ sighed _ , sending another wide arc of cerulean spark with expert precision from his mouth straight into Bill. The triangular abomination careened back, tumbling over himself with another hellish shriek.

 

His hands balled into fists, more red flames beginning to form, but Norman shot more sky-blue bolts directly into those flames, extinguishing them into little indigo clouds of smoke.

 

“Face it, Bill.”

 

"̢̟̪ͅN̛̹͔̻̝̭̯͔ó̡̼͇̮̣̻̝̥ͅ!̸͈̳͍̮͎̼͢"͓͚

 

“Face the facts,” Norman stood over him. “You  _ lost _ . The Earth isn’t yours for the taking.”

 

_ "̶̦͕̗͢N̷̢̲̺̼Ǫ̛̘͍̱!̥̖̫"͎͖̣͟͝ _

 

The triangle tried one last thing. His whole body turned from yellow to red, the flames leaping and crackling higher now, in a last-ditch effort to hurt Norman.

 

But the fire couldn’t even touch him when he remembered Dipper’s smile. He remembered Mabel’s laugh, and the way Pacifica patted him on the shoulder when she was proud of him. He remembered Courtney hugging him just a bit too tight, he remembered Neil’s excitement whenever he visited Massachusetts. He remembered his mom and dad ruffling his hair when he was a kid.

 

His voice was calm as he placed his two hands on either side of the triangle. 

 

“Good-bye,” he said.

 

And then, he poured all his power into his hands, all the lightning in him into that touch, his vision getting brighter and brighter until it was so white he had to close his eyes.

 

And with that, it was over. Bill had been banished from this reality once and for all.

 

Norman’s strength left him and he fell, once more, from the sky.

 

He didn’t remember hitting the ground. He was so exhausted from the battle, that he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He heard muffled voices around him, but they were fuzzy. He felt arms around him.

 

And then, softly, his ears picked up something over the ringing.

 

“...don’t do this to me,” Dipper was murmuring, “don’t do this to me, not again, you can’t die again, you promised me, you can’t die…”

 

Norman forced his eyes open. His vision was going in and out, but Dipper was so close to his face…

 

“...kay,” he forced out the word on a little sigh.

 

Dipper sobbed his relief and held the medium close to his chest in front of the entire world as the younger man’s consciousness left him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get riggity riggity wrecked, Bill.
> 
> One more chapter to go...


	24. Ursa Major

_ WASHINGTON, D.C. _

 

The national guard found the saviours of the universe in the centre of a large crowd, Dipper Pines holding his beloved close, laughing and crying all at once as he rained little kisses all over his face, and Norman Babcock weakly clinging to Dipper’s shirt as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

 

The EMTs checked all four of the Mystery Quartet out. Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica were mostly fine. Norman, they decided, should probably go to a hospital, at least to have the wound on his side from the Hoover building stitched up. Unwilling to fully let go, Dipper of course rode in the ambulance with him. Mabel and Pacifica trailed behind in a taxi cab, as the local police force tried to discourage anyone in the massive crowd of people from following.

 

Once they were all there, Dipper still clinging to his boyfriend’s hand as a doctor stitched the currently-unconscious medium up, a nebbish young FBI agent (who Mabel recognised as the underling who had taken over as Agent Collins’ right hand man after Agent Shaw) entered the room. He fidgeted, adjusting his tie with shaky hands and pushed his glasses up his nose, but he didn’t seem as if he were going to arrest them. Rather, he seemed as if he were working up the nerve to… Dipper wasn’t sure. Thank them, perhaps.

 

“First time witnessing your coworker being possessed by an interdimensional monster, huh?” Mabel was the one who greeted the poor man, with about as much subtlety as she normally used.

 

“ _ Mabel _ _,_ ” Dipper hissed at his sister, glaring at her as if to tell her not to do that. Then, he turned to the agent. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

 

“Y-yes, well-” the agent began, but was cut off when Dipper continued:

 

“Do you see this man that the doctor is currently working on? Are you aware he just saved your ungrateful ass from complete annihilation? The least you could do is let him  _ rest _ for once.”

 

“Th-the media is going to want to get your statement, and Deputy Director Lee wants me to-”

 

“To what? To get me to comply with what the FBI wants after you set us up and then tried to kill us for it?”

 

“We didn’t know Agent Collins was-” the FBI agent cut himself off, going a little pale as he murmured the word, “...p-possessed.”

 

Dipper arched an eyebrow, watched his sister and Pacifica exchange looks. That was right, Norman had forced Bill from a government agent’s body and fought him with a literal superpower in front of the  _ entire world _ . Most of the people who had been filming with their cell phones probably hadn’t even known the paranormal  _ existed _ before now. Norman had not only  _ saved _ the world, he had changed it, perhaps for good.

 

What kind of world would be awaiting them when Norman was released from the hospital?

 

Dipper turned to the girls.

 

“Can you two wait outside for a sec?”

 

“ _ What _ ?!” Mabel exclaimed, but Pacifica took her hand and gestured towards the door, knowing full well the brunette woman wasn’t the best with negotiations.

 

“We’ll give you a few minutes,” she said coolly, shooting the agent a cold glare as she led Mabel from the room. Dipper was grateful for Pacifica in that moment - he wasn’t sure how ugly this would get, and he definitely didn’t need his sister to see that, not after what they had all just been through.

 

And then, once they had left, he, too, glared at the FBI agent with some amount of expectation. Just what was this asshole going to say? Did he  _ really _ expect Dipper to comply with him after  _ everything _ that he and Norman had just gone through?

 

The man sighed. Then, he spoke, “Okay… the agency is willing to end the manhunt and make a formal statement to the media that you two are national heroes. Buuuut… we’re going to need you to leave the government’s involvement out of your official statement…”

 

Incredulous, Dipper stared at the agent for a good few seconds, as if trying to determine if he were really serious or not. Then, he looked to Norman. The medium’s eyes were still closed, his skin still pale and dirty from the fight that had taken so much out of him, his lips slightly parted and his face slack with exhaustion. Dipper knew that now, more than ever, he would do anything for this incredible human being. He turned back to the FBI agent.

 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he responded. “You and your guys are gonna buy us an apartment in New York to replace the one your goons destroyed. A  _ nice _ apartment, got that?”

 

“I-”

 

“I’m not done,” Dipper’s glare intensified. “Then you’re gonna pay for our hotel and our plane fare to get back home. And  _ finally _ , you’re going to fix our god damned van!”

 

In his good hand, he could feel Norman stirring a little, as he had been doing on and off for the past thirty minutes or so. Honestly, it made Dipper feel a little guilty - Norman’s body needed the rest, not to keep fighting to stay awake.

 

“An’ Pacif’ca,” Norman mumbled before his head lulled back again. Dipper understood what he meant, and he continued with:

 

“Yes. You’re going to do all of that  _ and _ pay back Pacifica Northwest for our hospital bills in Quebec for what your machine did to my arm!” He held up his left arm, still in its cast. “And  _ then _ , if I am feeling generous, we will paint the government in a  _ neutral _ light. Is that clear, or do you need me to simplify?”

 

The FBI agent looked a little taken aback. He adjusted his tie again, before saying, “...that’s… that’s clear…”

 

As soon as he left the room, looking absolutely flabbergasted, Mabel burst right back into the room, with Pacifica right behind her.

 

“Dipper, that was  _ incredible _ !” the girl twin exclaimed. It was obvious she’d been eavesdropping. “He was like ‘we destroyed your life but tell everyone we’re cool’ and you were like ‘no way, man, you owe us a butt-ton of money!’”

 

“I don’t sound like that,” Dipper deadpanned.

 

“You sound  _ just _ like that,” his twin sister grinned.

 

“You really didn’t have to tell him to pay me back,” Pacifica added. “It’s not like I need the money or anything.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re getting it,” he responded. “It’s what Norman wanted. Ask him yourself-”

 

But when he turned to look at Norman, the medium’s face had gone slack again. Somehow, Dipper knew instinctively that his boyfriend was out for good this time, that he wouldn’t wake up for days. And Dipper was okay with that. Norman needed the rest, and they were all lucky he was even alive.

 

Pacifica looked like she was trying to hold back a smile.

 

“When he wakes up,” she replied, “remind me to thank him.”

 

“And remind  _ me _ ,” Mabel butt in, “to show him  _ this _ !”

 

She thrust her phone in her brother’s face, the screen showing her twitter feed.

 

“What exactly am I looking at?” he frowned up at her.

 

“Look at the top trending hashtag!”

 

“Huh?” Dipper looked down at the phone in his hand, and could feel Pacifica hovering over his shoulder. Evidently, she didn’t know what Mabel was getting at anymore than he did.

 

Neither one of them could have prepared themselves for the top hashtag being “KickHisAssBlueLightning”.

 

Dipper was astounded. Not only was the news of what they had just done spreading; people  _ loved _ Norman for it! Norman’s love for these people had saved their lives, and they were thanking him by returning it tenfold.

 

He didn’t know what to do except laugh.

 

It was going to be a strange and wonderful new world when they got back to New York.

 

***

 

It was after sunset when the Babcock family showed up in Norman’s hospital room. The medium hadn’t woken up yet, and Dipper hadn’t left his side once. It was a huge commotion, everyone talking all at once as Pacifica tried to explain how Norman had faked his death and Mabel constantly pulling up footage of the final battle and Courtney blubbering all over her unconscious little brother and Sandra wanting to know all the medical details so she could make sure her son was going to be okay. With everyone trying to talk over each other, Dipper’s head was spinning, but he didn’t want to leave Norman’s side. 

 

Finally, it came out (and Dipper still wasn’t sure whose mouth it came out of) that the Babcocks hadn’t eaten anything since before they had all hopped in a car and driven down to Washington D.C. all the way from Massachusetts.

 

“ _ What _ ?” Pacifica bristled, her voice taking on a commanding tone that immediately made everyone else go silent in order to hear what the tiny blonde had to say. “That’s unacceptable. I think we passed a sandwich place on the way here earlier - I’ll buy for all of you.”

 

Sandra and Courtney quickly both agreed to this (Courtney because she still had so many questions and Pacifica was the only person in any position to answer them; Sandra because the poor woman was just too exhausted from the drive to refuse) but the men in the room - Dipper and Perry - both shook their heads.

 

“‘mnot hungry,” Dipper mumbled numbly, looking over at Norman’s face again. It was a lie, but he hated to leave Norman for too long in this state.

 

“I’m staying with my son,” Perry answered, not sharing any other reason for refusing a free meal.

 

Sandra looked saddened by that, but her response was to give her husband a gentle hug and murmur, “Courtney and I will bring you back a turkey sandwich, okay?”

 

Perry gave a gruff little nod, but didn’t offer any verbal response.

 

The trio of blonde women left the room, but Mabel stood by the door.

 

“Dipper? Do you want me to bring you back something, too?”

 

Dipper shook his head. “I’m not hungry,” he repeated.

 

“You haven’t eaten all day,” he could hear the frown in Mabel’s voice. “At least get something at the hospital’s cafeteria for me?”

 

“Mabel? Aren’t you coming?” Pacifica’s voice came from the hall.

 

“Promise me, Dip?” Mabel continued. “You know Norman would want you to…”

 

His heart did a somersault in his chest. He knew Mabel was right.

 

“I’ll go down there in a little bit,” he sighed, waving his sister off with his casted arm. With an unreadable expression on her face, Mabel left the room, leaving her twin brother alone with Perry Babcock. 

 

The awkward silence hung heavy in the air between the two men. Dipper had never known what to say to Perry even at the best of times. What could he possibly say  _ now _ ?

 

“Well?” Perry gave him a sideways glance.

 

“W-well?” Dipper repeated, confused.

 

“Pines, go get your damn dinner in the cafeteria.”

 

There was a certain amount of raw emotion in Perry’s voice that made Dipper almost afraid to protest. How was it that, even after facing down the FBI and aliens and Bill fucking Cipher, it was his boyfriend’s father who Dipper couldn’t talk back to?

 

He could only nod weakly, and scamper down to the first floor for a styrofoam cup of coffee and a disappointingly limp slice of pizza.

 

But when he got back, he was surprised to see Perry not standing stoically, but kneeling next to the bed, clutching one of Norman’s pale hands and murmuring… something. A prayer? No… an  _ apology _ .

 

Even though it felt slightly voyeuristic, curiosity got the better of Dipper, and he strained his ears to listen.

 

“...and you were so tiny,” Perry was saying under his breath, “and I know you never liked little league, but god if you knew how proud I was when you first put on that uniform. Or when Sandra told us we were having a boy. I was so happy to finally have a son! My son… my only son… did you ever even know how much I love you?”

 

Dipper suppressed a gasp, and kept listening.

 

“Will you ever know now? I… I should have been a better father. I wish I’d never told you to drop all that freaky ghost stuff. If… if you’d listened to me, we’d all be dead now. I should have listened to  _ you _ . You- you’re so good to everyone, and all I’ve ever done is show you anger for it, and I know I did it out of love, but I… I was wrong, Norman. I wish you knew that I… I’ll try. I’ll try to be the kind of father you deserve if only you’ll  _ open your eyes _ _._ My son…”

 

And now, Dipper was shocked, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. He thought he must be going crazy. Because there was no way Perry Babcock - Perry, who always seemed so hard and distant - was  _ crying _ right now. There was just no fucking way. And yet, his shoulders were shaking, the tone in his voice was unmistakably sobby. 

 

Not knowing what else to do - Norman’s father wouldn’t want him to just stand there and watch him cry - Dipper awkwardly walked over. He placed a hand on Perry’s shaking shoulder, and the older man froze immediately.

 

“Th-there, there,” Dipper stammered, unsure what else to say. Mabel was the twin who was good at this emotional crap, not him. “He’ll… he’ll be okay. And he’ll forgive you. He loves you too, you know.”

 

Perry didn’t look up. At first, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move.

 

Then, out of nowhere, he stood and grabbed Dipper, hugging his son’s boyfriend super tight, to the point where the Pines boy could hardly breathe, because he didn’t have enough words to express how grateful he was.

 

“You brought him back alive,” he muttered against Dipper’s shoulder. “Thank you, for saving my son…”

 

“You big softy,” Dipper replied quietly, rubbing his shoulders awkwardly as Perry cried against him.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Pines.”

 

He obeyed this order from Perry gladly, and both men were silent for a few minutes.

 

And then, Perry pulled back, wiped his face off, and instructed, “that never happened. Got it?”

 

“R-right.”

 

“I’ve never cried a day in my life, you got that?”

 

Dipper couldn’t help but smile a little.

 

“Sure,” he said. “I splashed water on my shoulder in the cafeteria.”

 

“Damn straight you did,” Perry returned his small, shaky smile. “You always were a slob.”

 

“H-hey…”

 

***

 

Three days later, Norman opened his eyes.

 

He knew right away - both from the sounds of nearby, confused ghosts and from the soreness he felt all over - that he was in a hospital.

 

But it was a pleasant surprised when he turned his head and saw not only Dipper, clinging to his hand, but Pacifica, Mabel, his parents, and Courtney. His whole family was here.

 

“H-hey,” he smiled weakly at everybody.

 

“Oh my god, Norman, you’re awake,” his mother jumped over to him, cupping his face with her hand. “Thank god you’re  _ alive _ !”

 

“I’m alive, Mom…”

 

“We did it!” Mabel exclaimed. “We won! And you’re not gonna believe what else!”

 

Before Mabel could reveal ‘what else’, Pacifica butt in with, “CNN wants an interview with the two of you, by the way.”

 

“CNN?” Norman was confused, still a bit dazed, though that was probably at least partially from whatever medication the hospital had given him.

 

“You’re  _ famous _ now, Normy!” Mabel chirped, grabbing the nearby television remote and turning on the TV which hung in the corner of the room.

 

The news was showing someone’s cell phone video of a being of pure blue electricity fighting Bill Cipher himself, while a steady stream of tweets about the mysterious “Blue Lightning” who had saved everyone scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Norman couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He was half-convinced this was a dream.

 

“Is that… me?” he asked in a timid, unsure voice.

 

“That’s you,” Dipper was smiling proudly, and squeezed his hand. “Norman, you saved the universe!”

 

The medium blinked, the full realisation of what he had done flooding over him in an almost overwhelming wave.

 

“Dipper…  _ we _ saved the universe.”

 

He could hardly believe the words he was saying. But it was true. It was beautiful and wonderful and  _ true , _ and even though he was in a hospital and exhausted, Norman was so  _ happy _ .

 

A big, strong hand found his shoulder, and Norman looked up to see his father, smiling down at him affectionately. 

 

Perry hadn’t smiled at him like that since he was a little kid…

 

“Norman,” his father spoke in a voice that was clearly supposed to be authoritative, but came out sounding far more unsure than usual, “I… I know I haven’t always made things easy. But I want you to know - no, I  _ need _ you to know that… What you and Dipper did? It was amazing.  _ You’re _ amazing. I’m proud to call you my son. I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Dad…” The medium had no idea how to respond. This was too much. This was all too much and he was loving every second.

 

“‘Blue Lightning’, huh?” Pacifica looked up at the television, though no one in the room was really listening to what it was saying. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

 

“I still like ‘Super Lightning Normy’ better,” Mabel couldn’t resist.

 

“Can’t I just be Norman?” Norman’s smile just kept getting bigger and bigger. They’d really done it. They’d stopped Bill for good!

 

“You’ve never been ‘just’ anything,” Dipper said. “You’re a hero.”

 

“Amen to that,” Perry added.

 

“Yeah, yeah!” Courtney pushed her father aside, grinning almost giddily. “You saved the world and we’re all  _ totally _ proud. Good for you, Norman. But you’re not the only one with news, little man… I’m going to have a baby!”

 

“Wait,  _ what _ ?!” Mabel screeched.

 

And then, all at once, everyone in the room turned their attention to Courtney. Everyone except for Dipper.

 

Norman was grateful, both because he knew his sister had always wanted to be a mother, and because he knew she knew he didn’t like being the centre of attention. Courtney had probably done that on purpose so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

 

Dipper leaned in close, touching their foreheads together, so that Norman would be able to hear him over everyone else shouting over each other about Courtney’s big news.

 

“You’re my hero,” Dipper told him.

 

“And you’re mine… Thank you, Dip. For believing in me.”

 

“I always did say I wanted to believe…”

 

Norman couldn’t even be mad that Dipper had made a stupid ‘X-Files’ reference. He was too happy that they’d saved the universe.

 

***

 

_ MANHATTAN, THREE MONTHS LATER _

 

January passed into February, and thus into March and April. The media frenzy had only just begun to die down. Norman had never liked being the centre of attention, and Dipper knew that, so he did as many interviews for the both of them as he could. But it was exhausting. It was a damn good thing that, true to their word, the government had given them an apartment, rent-free, in the middle of Manhattan. They’d probably never have to work again in return for saving the world. And changing the world, too.

 

Not that that stopped either of them.

 

Now that they had a new apartment, and Mabel and Pacifica were safely back in California, the two were content to do what it was they had always done best - freelance paranormal investigation.

 

Of course, could it even be called ‘paranormal’ anymore?

 

The whole world knew now that ghosts, demons, aliens, mediums… all that and more was real and true. Courtney’s baby, when it was born, would be born into the world where no one thought twice about a small kid seeing a ghost or a woman discussing an exorcism down the street or Norman Babcock, saviour of the universe, turning into lightning to banish an eldritch abomination from reality.

 

It was no longer paranormal, was it? It was just… normal. A  _ new _ normal. One that Dipper and Norman liked much better.

 

Tired of answering the same questions over and over, and eager to put his journalism skills from college into good use, Dipper had even decided to write a tell-all memoir about their experiences. Which… was easier in theory than in practise. He’d started it in mid-February. It was now April, and he was barely past chapter five.

 

As he sat on the couch trying to think of just the right way to word this sentence, Norman walked into their apartment, plopping down onto the couch and curling comfortably, confidently, into Dipper’s chest. His shirt rode up just a little bit, so Dipper could see the scar on his side from the final battle. (Unlike so many of Norman’s other scars, the medium was privately really proud of this one. It was a testament to his bravery that he’d wear on his side forever.)

 

“How’s the chapter going?” Norman smiled as he cuddled close.

 

Dipper began to run his fingers through his boyfriend’s soft hair on instinct.

 

“Uh… it’s going…”

 

The medium took a look at the computer screen, and deadpanned, “maybe it’d go faster if you cut this part out. I doubt you need yet another paragraph devoted to the colour of my eyes.”

 

“It’s thematically important, okay?” 

 

“Suuuure it is,” Norman teased.

 

Dipper looked down at the smirking face, at the way the sunlight filtered through the windows and reflected off that lopsided little smile and those cheekbones and those incredibly blue eyes. Then, he glanced around their apartment. Everything was so… peaceful. Like this was the way things were always supposed to be.

 

Like everything was going to be okay.

 

And for once, Dipper wasn’t worried. He was just… Happy.

  
The new normal had begun.

 

_ -fin- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe we’re finally here. It’s the final chapter of not only this story - which is the most ambitious singular story I’ve ever set out to complete - but of this entire series which has taken up a good year and a half of my life. All the words in the world - a billion trillion of them - could never even begin to describe how eternally grateful Sarah and I are to have shared these stories and their excellent soundtracks with all of you! I've sincerely enjoyed getting to know your usernames and recognising them as you would comment, whether you've been here from the beginning of TUiM or whether you just started with this story. I'm grateful for each and every one of you.
> 
> Thank you. Thank you so much. From the Mystery Quartet and from me.


End file.
